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mzj&m 


By  SAMUEL  S.  COX. 

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The  Isles  of  The  Princes ;  or,  THE  PLEASURES  OF  PRIN- 
KIPO.  8vo,  illustrated  .  .  .  .  $2  oo 

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G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON. 


THE 


ISLES    OF   THE    PRINCES; 


OR, 


THE  PLEASURES   OF  PRINKIPO 


BY 


SAMUEL    S.   £OX 


LATE     UNITED    STATES    MINISTER    TO    TURKEY,    AND    AUTHOR    OF     "  BUCKEYE     ABROAD  ;  " 

"WINTER  SUNBEAMS;"  "WHY  WE   LAUGH;"  "FREE  LAND  AND  FREE  TRADE;" 

"ARCTIC    SUNBEAMS;"    "ORIENT    SUNBEAMS;"    "THREE    DECADEV  OF 

FEDERAL    LEGISLATION  ;  "     "  DIVERSIONS     OF    A    DIPLOMAT    IN 

TURKEY  ;  "  ETC. 


"  Summer  isles  of  Eden,  lying  in  deep,  purple  spheres  of  sea." 

Tennyson. 


With  Map  and  Illustrations. 


NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 
G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 


1887 


COPYRIGHT   BY 

G.   P.   PUTNAM'S   SONS 

1887 


Press  of 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
New  York 


TO  MRS.  JULIA  A.  COX. 


THIS  volume  faintly  describes  the  delights  of 
our  Grecian  home  at  Prinkipo,  among  the  Isles  of 
the  Princes.  It  is  intended  as  a  souvenir  and 
record  for  each  of  us.  It  recalls  our  pleasant 
sojourn  in  those  classic  isles,  and  the  many  cour- 
tesies bestowed  upon  us, — "  strangers  in  a  strange 
land."  We  both  desire  to  give  our  appreciation 
and  thanks  a  form  more  substantial  than  that  of  a 
memory  merely.  Here  we  can  attempt  this,  and 
make  our  response  in  grateful  recognition  of  the 
kindness  with  which  we  were  received  and  the 
happiness  of  our  sojourn. 

It  is  fit,  therefore,  that  to  you,  my  dear  wife,  I 
should  dedicate  this  volume  ;  for  if  we  have 
achieved  any  measure  of  success,  socially  or  other- 
wise, in  our  island  home,  may  I  not  say  that  it  is 
due  to  those  qualities  of  kindness  and  complai- 
sance which  you  possess,  and  which  have  made 
our  lives  one  in  an  ever  increasing  circle  of 
felicity  ? 

S.  S.  Cox. 


in 


PREFACE. 


THIS  little  volume  is  the  episode  of  a  summer's 
enjoyment  and  observation  among  the  Princes 
Isles,  in  the  old  Propontis.  It  is  intended  to  be 
a  recital  of  the  many  diversive  excursions  in  and 
around  these  islands  and  the  adjacent  places  in 
Asia  and  Europe.  It  is  supplementary  to  a  more 
complete  account  of  the  author's  experience  while 
minister  of  the  United  States  to  Turkey.  That 
account,  in  its  fulness,  is  to  be  found  in  a  volume 
entitled  "  Diversions  of  a  Diplomat  in  Turkey," 
published  by  C.  L.  Webster  &  Co.,  of  New  York 
City. 

These  Isles  of  the  Princes  lie  in  sight  of  Stam- 
boul  and  its  splendors,  and  of  the  mountains  of 
Asia,  dominated  by  the  Mysean  Olympus.  They 
are  glorious  in  physical  loveliness.  They  are  still 
the  "Isles  of  Greece,"  although  under  Ottoman 
rule.  Out  of  their  blue  waters,  at  morn  and 
eve,  the  beauty  of  the  Grecian  myth  arises,  to 
grace  the  isles  with  her  smiles.  Upon  them  burn 
"  the  larger  constellations."  They  are  fitly  named 
"  Isles  of  Princes.  "  Upon  them  the  palaces  of  the 


M505442 


vi  PREFACE. 

princes  of  old  Byzantium  were  erected.  Here, 
too,  were  their  monasteries  and  prisons.  The 
relics  of  these  lines  of  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
empire  are  nearly  all  faded ;  but  the  monas- 
teries of  the  Orthodox  Greek  Church  still  hold 
here  their  eminences,  as  well  by  virtue  of  their 
antique  titles  as  by  their  superb  situations. 

Under  the  light  of  these  associations,  and  with 
the  fantastic  glimmer  of  human  caprice  and  pas- 
sion which  the  pages  of  Gibbon  best  picture,  and 
under  the  constantly  recurring  phases  of  the 
"Eastern  Question,"  the  summer  of  1886  was 
passed  by  the  writer. 

The  impressions  herein  recorded  cannot,  per- 
haps, be  of  more  than  fleeting  interest  to  the 
reader.  Their  very  diversity  indicates  the  sepa- 
rate and  distinct  hues  of  a  prism,  and  these  give 
their  colors  to  the  author's  pages. 

S.  S.  Cox. 

NEW  YORK,  May  i,  1887. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE 

I.  THE  ISLES  OF  THE  PRINCES  IN  THE  PROPONTIS — 

THEIR  GOVERNMENT  A*ND  PEOPLE  i 

II.  ISLES  OF  THE  PRINCES — THEIR  GEOGRAPHY   AND 

HISTORICAL  ASSOCIATIONS  18 

III.  HEALTH  AND  OTHER  ATTRACTIONS  OF  PRINKIPO    .    30 

IV.  HOME   LIFE  IN  PRINKIPO  —  OUR   NEIGHBORS  — 

LITTLE  FOLKS — FISHERMEN  AND  SONGS          .        43 
V.  PRINKIPO — ITS  GARDENS   AND   VILLAS  .         .     69 

VI.  PRINKIPO  —  No   RUNNING    WATER  —  STRANGE 
NOISES  —   THE  VOCIFEROUS  DONKEY  —  THE 

BIRDS 78 

VII.  COMPOSITE  PEOPLE  OF  PRINKIPO — OLD   CUSTOMS 

AND  REVELS — ITALIAN  INFLUENCE  ~T       .96 

VIII.  PRINKIPO— ITS  MONASTERY  OF  ST.  GEORGE      .       117 
IX.  THE   GREEK   AND  OTHER    MONASTERIES   OF   THE 

ORIENT ^ 

X.  OUR  NEIGHBORS  OF  THE  CHRISTOS  MONASTERY       140 
XI.  TRIP  TO   HALKI,  ISLE  OF   COPPER — GREEK  COL- 
LEGES— SPLENDID  SCENERY         .        .        .        .154 
XII.    ANTIGONE  AND  PROTI  —  HISTORIC  AND    OTHER 

INCIDENTS 180 

XIII.  PLATI  AND  OXIA — SIR  HENRY   BULWER'S   FATAL 

LITTLE  ISLE — His  DIPLOMACY  AND  HIS  ECCEN- 
TRICITIES  .  ......   189 

XIV.  PRINKIPO  AS  A  HERMITAGE — CLOISTERED   AMEN- 

ITIES— A  RICH  LIBRARY 219 

XV.  THE  LIBRARY  UNDER  NEW  ASPECTS        .         .         .  233 

vii 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


XVI.  INFERNAL  FIRE  AND  LALLA  ROOKH  —  DIPLO- 
MACY— THE  ROMANCE  AND  POETRY  OF  PETRO- 
LEUM   249 

XVII.  JAUNT  TO  THE  PALACE  OF  BEYLERBEY — ITS  ASSOCIA- 
TIONS,   MENAGERIE   AND   TIGER — RULES  FOR  A 
TIGER  HUNT     ....... 

XVIII.  ACROSS   THE   CHANNEL  OF  PRINKIPO — HANNIBAL 

AND  HIS  GRAVE 

XIX.  ASIAN  SHORES — NIOEA  AND   NICOMEDIA     . 
XX.  BROUSSA — ITS  ENTERPRISE  AND  HISTORY — MOUNT 
OLYMPUS        ....... 

XXI.  EUROPEAN     SHORE  —  SAN     STEFANO    AND    THE 

TREATY 329 

XXII.  PRINKIPO — ITS  GREEK  AND  OTHER  WOMEN      .         338 

XXIII.  TH.E   TURKISH   WOMEN — A   PRINCESS   OF   EGYPT 

INDEED — AN  ESCAPADE     .         .  .         -354 

XXIV.  FAREWELL  TO  PRINKIPO  AND  ITS  PLEASURES     .         369 


264 

287 
302 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


VIEW  OF  PRINKIPO Frontispiece 

ALBANIAN  POLICE       ........  14 

MAP  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS  AND  PRINCES  ISLES        .            .  l8 

PEDDLER  OF  MEATS   ........  52 

ICE-CREAM  PEDDLER 6p 

WATER-CARRIERS 70 

DONKEY  RESTING  HIS  HEAD  IN  AN  EGYPTIAN  TEMPLE           .  88 

JACK  AND  GRIZZLY  FIGHT 90 

THE  ARABY-TURKISH  CARRIAGE            .....  104 

GREEK  GIRLS      .........  106 

MONASTERY  OF  METEORA I2O 

BEATING  THE    "  SIMANDRO  " 128 

GREEK  FATHER  ARSENIUS  AND  HIS  SABRE               .             .             .  130 

FINDING  RARE  MANUSCRIPTS 136 

VENDER  OF  SIMITS 142 

BEGGAR .                          .  144 

OECUMENICAL  PATRIARCH  DEMETRIUS  V.                 .            .            •  I52 

LEGATION  STEAM  LAUNCH    "  SUNSET  "    OFF  PRINKIPO           .  156 

HALKI          ..........  l6o 

"  SOYER  TRES  HEUREUX  " 232 

INTERIOR  OF  CIRCASSIAN  HOME 236 

MAP  OF  THE  REGION  OF  FIRE  AND  PETROLEUM         .        .  250 

TIGER-HUNT  FOR  THE  MINISTER 270 

HANNIBAL'S  GRAVE .  301 

GREEK  WOMAN  FROM  THE  INTERIOR          ....  338 

TURKISH  WOMAN 354 

TURKISH  WOMEN  ON  A  DONKEY-RIDE        ....  356 

"  FAR  AWAY  MOSES  " 37** 

ix 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES; 

OR, 

THE    PLEASURES    OF    PRINKIPO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    ISLES     OF     THE     PRINCES    IN     THE     PROPONTIS 

THEIR    GOVERNMENT    AND    PEOPLE. 

THERE  are  nine  of  these  isles,  of  which  five— 
Prinkipo,  Halki,  Antigone,  Proti  and  Terevinthos 
(Androvichi) — are  inhabited;  the  other  four— 
Oxia,  Plati,  Nyandros  and  Pita — are  uninhabited. 
The  five  first-mentioned  have  been  inhabited  for 
ages  past.  The  great  Doge,  Henry  Dandolo,  who 
was  the  soul  of  the  Fourth  Crusade,  advised  the 
Crusaders,  who  were  then  encamped  at  San  Ste- 
fano,  just  beyond  the  walls  of  Constantinople, 
"  not  to  forage  in  the  Thracian  plains,  but  rather 
to  try  these  islands  qui  sont  habitues  de  genzy  et 
labor  ^es  de  blez  et  de  viandes  et  d'autres  biens" 

They  were  called  in  ancient  times  "  Demonisi," 
and  under  this  appellation  they  are  mentioned  by 
Aristotle,  who  says  of  one  of  them  :  "  Demonisos, 
an  island  of  the  Chalcedonians,  deriving  its  name 


2  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

from  its  founder,  Demonisos,  famous  for  the  gold 
dust  it  produces,  which  is  most  valuable  as  a  cure 
for  those  suffering  from  the  eyes." 

The  Turks  call  them  collectively  "  Khizil  Ada- 
lar "  —Red  Islands — from  the  peculiar  color  of 
their  soil. 

The  early  Roman  had  a  taste  for  beauty. 
When  he  became  master  of  the  East  the  mythical 
and  mystical  beauty  of  the  Greek  islands  allured 
him.  He  liked  the  climate,  which  the  sea  softened 
alike  during  summer  and  winter.  The  islands  of 
the  Bay  of  Naples  became  favorite  abodes  for  the 
opulent  of  Imperial  Rome,  and  Lesbos,  described 
as  a  noble  and  pleasant  island  by  Tacitus,  was  a 
royal  retreat  for  a  Roman  governor  in  exile. 

Some  liken  these  isles  and  waters  to  those  of 
the  Malayan  archipelago.  There  the  scenes  are 
tropical  and  the  waters  luminous  with  phospho- 
rescent beauty.  Those  who  have  seen  the  inland 
sea  of  Japan,  compare  its  charm  of  water  and  sky 
to  the  deep  blue  sea  and  overarching  glory  of 
the  Grecian  isles.  I  have  often  been  reminded, 
wrhile  sailing  amidst  these  isles,  of  the  sunny 
sheen  and  the  verdant  hills  and  mountains  of  our 
Antilles.  In  praising  the  Princes  group  I  give 
the  palm  to  no  other  scenery,  for  to  the  beauty 
of  nature  in  the  islands  of  Greece,  like  those  of 
Prinkipo  and  the  other  Isles  of  the  Princes,  there 
is  an  added  charm  :  it  is  that  of  historical  and 


UNITY  WITH  VARIETY.  * 

poetical  associations.  Their  historical  associations 
are  the  annals  of  ancient  empire,  Asian  and  Euro- 
pean ;  and  their  poetical  associations  have  as  their 
aureole  a  golden  radiance,  under  which 

"  Mildly  dimpling,  ocean's  cheek 
Reflects  the  tints  of  many  a  peak, 
Caught  by  the  laughing  tides  that  lave 
These  Edens  of  the  Eastern  wave." 

There  were  nine  muses.  The  Princes  Isles  are 
the  same  in  number  as  those  sisters.  The  muses 
had  various  functions  in  the  hierarchy  of  song. 
These  isles  have  a  similar  condition  in  the  econ- 
omy of  nature,  not  to  speak  of  their  artistic  utili- 
ties. Their  beauty  and  allurements  are  as  varied 
as  the  hues  of  the  waters  around  them.  Yet  they 
are  similar;  and,  notwithstanding  differences  in 
history,  size  and  cultivation,  they  cannot  be  ac- 
counted aliens  to  each  other.  The  same  geology, 
the  same  sun,  the  same  production,  the  same  in- 
sects even,  give  them  a  unity  in  variety  which 
would  be  as  pleasing  as  one  of  Sophocles's  plays 
to  a  scholar — or  as  the  E  pluribus  unum  to  a  patri- 
otic lover  of  our  starry  ensign.  Like  the  Iris— 
which  is  seen  with  every  dash  of  the  clear  water  of 
the  Propontis  (or  Marmora) — varios  insula  col- 
ores,  this  group,  unless  we  except  the  bay  of  Na- 
ples, is  without  a  peer  in  the  archipelagoes  or 
waters  of  our  globe. 


4  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

The  isles  are  on  the  latitude  of  New  York 
but  they  have  not  its  winter  sleet,  snow,  chill,  and 
inclemency.  They  are  a  little  south-east  of  Con- 
stantinople. They  are  sheltered  from  the  harsh 
winds  of  the  Black  Sea,  as  the  Bosphorus  is  not,  by 
the  northern  range  of  Asiatic  mountains.  They 
take  on  the  climate  and  characteristics  and  have 
the  same  people  that  inhabited  the  Isles  of  Greece 
of  which  Homer  and  Byron  delighted  to  sing. 

It  is  difficult  to  affirm  after  the  lapse  of  many 
hundred  years  that  the  people  who  reside  upon 
the  shores  of  the  Greek  islands  are  other  than 
a  mixed  race.  They  are  of  the  Greek,  Roman, 
and  Turkish  races.  Their  only  sign  of  patriotism 
is  a  fervid  attachment  to  their  own  islands  and 
the  emotion  by  which  they  are  bound  to  their  or- 
thodox religion.  One  must  go  inland  upon  these 
isles  of  Greece  to  find  the  Greek  of  our  classic  en- 
thusiasm and  patriotic  frenzy.  In  this  respect  the 
Isles  of  the  Princes  are  exceptional.  The  body  of 
their  population  is  of  unmixed  Greek  origin.  It 
needs  no  ethnographical  chart  to  show  this  ;  the 
features  of  the  people  demonstrate  it.  The  pop- 
ulation is  nearly  all  Greek.  It  numbers  over  ten 
thousand.  Their  government  by  the  Porte  is 
hardly  felt. 

Mohammed  II.,  the  conqueror  of  Constanti- 
nople, was  wiser  than  his  contemporaries.  The 
Greeks  were  allowed  by  him,  through  their  own 
officers,  to  supervise  their  own  ceremonious  relig- 


MOSLEM  LIBERALITY.  5 

ion  in  the  very  city  of  Constantinople.  That 
Sultan  pensioned  many  of  the  Greek  clergy  to 
keep  up  the  establishment  of  their  faith.  He  did 
not  antagonize  the  millions  in  the  provinces  of 
Greece  who  were  under  the  crescent.  He  was 
content  to  exact  from  them  only  the  recognition 
of  his  secular  power.  These  isles  were  given  in 
fee  to  the  Greek  population.  Thereupon  they 
flocked  hither,  with  such  wealth  as  was  spared  to 
them  from  the  sacking  of  the  city.  Here  they 
found  already  built  their  religious  houses  and 
churches,  sacred  for  a  thousand  years  to  their 
faith.  Here  they  built  their  villas,  and  thence 
daily  sailed  in  their  pinnaces  to  the  city,  when  on 
business  or  pleasure  intent. 

What  kind  of  a  government  have  these  isles  ? 
Upon  some  of  them,  the  smaller  ones,  like  Pita, 
Androvichi,  Nyandros  and  Oxia,  there  are  no  resi- 
dents. Upon  Plati — Sir  Henry  Bulwer's  Isle,  so 
called — there  are  a  few  folk  cultivating  the  soil 
under  an  Armenian  peasant.  This  peasant  is  the 
gentle  castellan.  He  watches  the  tumble-down 
castles  which  the  English  minister  erected  in  one 
of  his  eccentric  moods.  Consequently  upon  only 
four  of  the  isles  is  there  need  of  a  government  or 
police.  What  do  the  police  here  ? 

One  of  their  functions  is  the  protection  of  the 
few  trees  from  the  goats.  The  islands  are  trav- 
ersed daily  by  herds  of  these  voracious  animals. 


6  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

They  are  generally  associated  with  the  gentlest  of 
big-tailed  sheep.  Both  are  under  one  shepherd.' 
But  as  the  goat  will  eat  anything,  even  an  Ameri- 
can petroleum  can,  and  especially  as  he  will  climb 
the  rocks  and  almost  trees  for  anything  verdant, 
he  is  the  pest,  not  only  of  these  isles,  where  some 
verdure  is  left,  but  of  the  Orient.  When  the 
young  boys  and  girls  who  are  shepherds  are  aloof 
from  the  forester,  owner,  or  police,  in  remote 
places,  they  help  the  goats  to  make  havoc  of  the 
woods  and  foliage.  In  these  countries,  almost  de- 
nuded of  trees  by  fire  and  war  and  reckless  peas- 
ants who  know  and  care  nothing  for  the  sanitary, 
climatic  and  agricultural  value  of  trees,  this  devas- 
tation was  simply  inevitable.  Cyprus  was,  until  the 
English  control,  almost  ruined  by  the  greedy  goat. 
Last  summer,  when  venturing  up  the  pretty  creek 
out  of  the  Bosphorus,  whereon  are  situated  the 
"  Sweet  Waters  of  Asia,"  a  mile  or  more  with  the 
meandering  stream,  I  saw  a  couple  of  gentle  shep- 
herd youths,  with  a  flock  of  goats,  on  the  beauti- 
ful hillside.  The  boys  were  in  the  trees.  They 
had  "  little  hatchets  "  and  saws.  They  were  cut- 
ting off  the  limbs  for  the  sustenance  of  their  flock. 
Thus  passeth  away  the  glory  of  these  little  Leban- 
ons  of  Asia ! 

These  isles,  however,  are  now  pretty  well 
guarded.  They  bid  fair  to  preserve  what  bosky 
beauty  and  sylvan  shade  they  have. 


DESTRUCTION  OF  FORESTS.  j 

The  Sultan  is  wise  beyond  most  of  his  subjects. 
He  preserves  the  grand  Belgrade  forests,  in  whose 
cool  haunts,  from  the  borders  of  the  Bosphorus  to 
the  Black  Sea  shore,  there  are  miles  of  splendid 
roads  through  deep,  verdurous  alleys  and  paths, 
for  equestrians  and  carriages.  Deer  still  frequent 
these  woods.  These  Belgrade  woods  are  made 
famous  by  the  vivid  descriptions  of  Lady  Mary 
Montagu,  who  sojourned  there  when  her  husband 
was  minister.  Besides  this  forest,  the  Sultan  has 
made  his  grounds  about  Yildiz  palace  umbra- 
geous in  trees  and  shrubs,  and  tasteful  in  pretty 
lakes  and  fountains.  Photographs  of  these  he 
has  had  taken.  He  requested  me  to  send,  to  the 
President  these  pictures.  This  I  have  done.  He 
desires  some  of  our  American  indigenous  trees, 
being  partial  to  conifera,  as  he  contemplates  en- 
larging his  forest  domain,  to  remove  the  reproach 
of  barrenness  from  the  hills  which  overlook  the 
Bosphorus  above  the  palaces  of  Beckitash  and 
Dolma  Batche.  To  make  this  plan  a  success,  the 
omnivorous  goat  must  go  !  But  as  long  as  the 
peasant  relies  on  the  goat  for  milk,  he  is  loath  to 
let  him  go. 

Although  the  Bosphorus  is  fifteen  miles  away  to 
the  north  from  our  Prinkipo  home  and  isle,  still  it 
is  within  my  bailiwick,  though  not  within  that  of 
the  police  system  which  obtains  here.  Formerly 
these  nine  Princes  Isles  were  attached  to  the 


8  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

"  Sixth  Circle,"  or  Prefecture  of  Pera — the  city  on 
the  hill  opposite  Constantinople  proper,  or  Stam- 
boul.  It  was  owing  to  the  skill  of  Blacque  Bey— 
the  Prefect,  or  Mayor,  of  the  "Circle" — that  these 
isles  improved.  But  recently  the  isles  have  been 
added  to  the  Prefecture  of  Ismid,  whose  capital, 
at  the  end  of  the  gulf  of  that  name,  is  famous 
in  the  annals  of  Bithynia,  in  her  earlier  Roman 
and  more  recent  Byzantine  ecclesiastical  history. 
However,  the  rule  is  nearly  the  same  as  when 
Blacque  Bey  was  the  Prefect.  The  government 
is  still  based  on  the  ideas  of  municipal  rule,  with 
considerable  freedom  about  taxation  ;  for  the  peo- 
ple are  allowed  voluntarily  to  pay  for  their  own 
improvements. 

The  government  of  the  isles  is  so  much  mixed 
that  it  is  more  difficult  to  understand  its  philos- 
ophy than  autocratically  to  administer  it.  To 
understand  its  combined  central  and  local  charac- 
ter you  must  study  its  Turkish  features.  In  the 
old  Arabic  legislation  municipal  rule  was  not  the 
exception.  The  Ottoman  did  not  greatly  change 
the  general  polity  and  administration  of  affairs 
when  Turkey  was  conquered  from  the  Greeks. 
Both  systems  were  decentralizing.  In  the  old 
Greek  system  there  was  much  reserved  to  the 
provinces  and  the  people  of  the  localities  "  respec- 
tively." This  was  the  mainspring  of  Grecian  sur- 
vival and  of  Turkish  continuance.  One  of  the 


THEIR  GOVERNMENT.  g 

changeless  things  in  this  country  is  the  fixed  fact 
that,  while  the  Greek  emperors  ruled  there  were 
the  same  capitulations  or  privileges  extended  by 
the  Greeks  to  the  Turks  as  the  Turks  now  extend 
to  the  Greeks  and  Franks.  The  concessions  went 
almost  as  far  in  religious  matters  as  those  of  Lord 
Baltimore  and  Roger  Williams  ;  so  that  the  Mos- 
lem had  the  privilege  of  erecting  mosques  within 
the  very  heart  and  walls  of  the  Stamboul  triangle  ; 
just  as  now  the  American  Bible  House  and  Fe- 
male Home  School,  not  to  speak  of  the  American 
(Robert)  College,  are  tolerated  within  its  jurisdic- 
tion. 

The  Sultan  is,  when  he  chooses,  practically 
absolute.  He  controls  purse  and  sword.  Al- 
though the  "  Gotha  Almanach  "  puts  the  govern- 
ment down  as  a  constitutional  monarchy,  it  is  so 
in  form  only.  There  was  a  constitution  adopted 
on  the  23d  of  December,  1876,  under  some  up- 
heaval, but  it  remains  a  dead  letter.  The  Sheik- 
Ul-Islam  represents,  the  spiritual  power  of  the 
Caliphate.  He  is  neither  priest  nor  magistrate, 
but  an  interpreter  of  the  sacred  Koran,  which  is  a 
law  for  the  realm,  except  when  the  Sultan  dis- 
penses with  the  interpretation.  There  are  titles, 
but  no  nobility,  no  hereditary  lords.  "  Effendi," 
the  name  by  which  the  princes  and  even  the  ''hon- 
orable women "  are  called,  is  no  more  than 
"  Esquire."  Other  titles,  such  as  Aga  and  Pasha, 


10  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

are  only  convenient  handles  to  names  like  Tewfik, 
Ali,  Mustafa  and  Mehmet.  There  is  a  title  repre- 
senting the  controlling  power,  by  which  the  ad- 
ministration is  known — viz.,  the  Sublime  Porte. 
It  is  a  locality,  on  or  near  the  Seraglio  Point, 
where  the  Bosphorus  flows  into  the  Sea  of  Mar- 
mora on  one  side,  and  the  Golden  Horn  flows 
into  the  same  sea  on  the  other  But  as  all  names 
of  places  in  Turkey  have  an  inner  meaning,  so 
Sublime  Porte  means  the  exalted  seat  of  justice. 
As  the  Bible  tells  us,  justice  was  administered  "  at 
the  gate,"  or  "porte."  It  was  the  Oriental  cus- 
tom. So  that  this  gate  is  known  as  the  gate  of 
justice  par  excellence  ! 

The  empire  in  its  grand  divisions  is  made  up  of 
vilayets.  These  are  governed  each  by  a  Viceroy. 
There  are  subordinates,  like  governors  of  counties, 
called  Mudirs,  or  of  divisions  of  counties  called 
Kai'makam.  The  Governor  of  this  isle  of  Prin- 
kipo  is  a  Kai'makam.  Sometimes  these  officers, 
especially  in  Christian  neighborhoods,  are  Chris- 
tians. Many  of  the  Turks  are  descendants  of 
Christians,  and  one-half  of  the  population  of  Tur- 
key, which  is  estimated  at  thirty-six  millions,  are 
not  Turkish.  The  idea  of  the  government  is 
patriarchal,  whether  it  is  practiced  or  not.  What 
would  seem  anomalous  in  other  countries  is  here 
a  rule,  viz.,  that  there  are  governments  within 
the  government.  These  are  patriarchal,  and  both 


GREEK  POLITY.  j  r 

civil  and  ecclesiastical  in  their  functions.  The 
Greek  subjects  in  their  internal  affairs  are  ruled 
by  their  own  laws  and  magistrates.  There  are 
heads  to  the  Armenian,  Hebrew,  Greek  and  Latin 
communities.  There  is  a  Greek  nation,  Ooroom 
Milletti.  It  is  ruled  by  a  Council.  In  this  the 
laity  have  much  control.  The  Patriarch  is  called 
"His  Holiness."  With  his  bishops  he  forms  a 
Synod  in  religious  matters.  Throughout  the 
country,  in  every  district,  city  and  village,  civil 
relations  are  regulated  by  these  councils  and 
synods,  along  with  the  ecclesiastical.  The  civil 
representative  may  be  a  Turk.  The  Kaimakam, 
or  chief  of  this  isle  of  Prinkipo,  is  now  a  Turk. 
He  used  to  be  a  Greek.  You  scarcely  see  him  or 
hear  of  him.  He  called  on  Admiral  Franklin, 
when  he  anchored  here  with  the  "  Kearsarge,"  but 
informed  him  that  he  had  no  residence,  only  an 
office,  on  the  isle.  He  did  not  expect,  therefore, 
the  Admiral  to  return  his  call.  I  have  not  re- 
ceived a  call  from  His  Excellency;  but  I  have 
heard  from  him,  in  an  unpleasant  way,  when  he 
interfered  with  my  comfort  and  courtesy,  without 
suspecting  from  my  modest  demeanor  that  I  repre- 
sented some  sixty  millions  of  free-born  Americans. 
I  was  cautioned  against  as  the  man  with  a  high 
silk  hat,  who  was  guilty  of  some  misadventure, 
not  entirely  in  accord  with  his  sense  of  decorum. 
When  he  learned  his  mistake,  the  correction  was 


12  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

prompt  and  adequate.  More  of  that  hereafter. 
It  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  Asia ;  and  as  these 
isles  are  in  Asia,  let  us  not  pluck  out  its  heart  too 
suddenly. 

Prinkipo,  like  the  other  eight  "  Isles  of  the 
Princes/'  has  a  good  deal  of  Home  Rule.  It  is  in 
the  form  of  a  Council,  which  is  elected  by  the 
householders.  It  has  power,  in  some  way,  to  levy 
some  of  the  taxes,  but  it  takes  care  not  to  do  it 
to  any  great  extent ;  for  the  revenue  is  taken  to 
the  city  and  becomes  a  common  fund.  This  fund 
does  not  always  inure  to  the  good  of  the  island, 
for  there  the  taxes — wherewithal  to  light,  police 
and  improve  the  isles,  or  at  least  this  isle  of  Prin- 
kipo— -are  voluntary  contributions  by  the  rich  folks. 
There  are  taxes— the  old  octroi — levied  here  upon 
donkeys  and  carriages.  They  pay  for  the  removal 
of  the  garbage  and  to  improve  the  streets  and 
roads.  Altogether  the  system  is  not  the  perfec- 
tion of  municipal  home  rule.  There  are  some 
thirty  police,  called  zap  ticks >  in  the  town  which 
is  near  the  shore.  These  keep  the  peace,  watch 
the  scala  (or  quay)  and  shipping,  and  light  the 
lamps.  They  seldom  penetrate  into  the  interior 
of  the  island,  which  is  a  dozen  miles  in  girth. 

Once  in  a  while,  when  sauntering  over  the 
heights  of  the  island,  or  among  the  pines,  there 
comes  on  you,  unexpectedly,  a  strange-looking  man, 
as  if  he  were  lost  out  of  one  of  Ulysses's  pinnaces 


THE  ALBANIAN  FORESTER.  j  3 

in  an  erratic  way,  or  just  from  Albania,  or  had 
been  tossed  out  of  the  Cyclades  by  an  earthquake, 
or  swam  ashore  by  some  help  of  the  Homeric 
gods  or  goddesses.  He  is  in  the  old  Greek  cos- 
tume, with  embroidered  vest,  large  red  sash,  and 
baggy  pants.  As  a  sign  of  his  Turkish  subjection, 
he  wears  the  red  fez.  In  his  sash  he  has  some 
Damascus  pistols,  silver-mounted.  They  are  as 
handsome  and  as  harmless  as  those  of  our  Ca- 
vass.  There  protrudes  from  the  sash  the  jewelled 
handle  of  the  Damascene  dirk,  or  yataghan. 
There  is  a  sword,  or  scimitar,  by  his  side,  and 
altogether  he  appears  quite  voluminous  at  his 
middle.  He  wears  low  shoes,  adorned  with  silver 
buckles.  He  has  them  turned  up  at  the  toes,  and 
high  black  silk  stockings.  His  brow  is  corrugated 
with  care.  His  hair  and  mustache  are  blonde. 
His  frame  is  stalwart.  Two  dogs  follow  him 
about.  What  is  his  business?  To  protect  the 
forest  from  goat,  fire  and  spoilers.  The  trees  must 
not  be  disturbed.  Fig  and  olive,  pine  and  pome- 
granate, on  the  road  or  by-paths,  or  over  the  stone 
fences,  each  and  all  are  precious.  The  world  does 
move ! 

This  elaborate  forester  is  from  the  Albanian 
mountains.  He  is  too  proud  to  make  his  avoca- 
tion known.  He  is  yet  to  arrest  any  one.  He 
trudges  along  as  independently  as  if  he  were  in 
his  native  Croatia.  He  is  one  of  the  hardy  race 


I4  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

of  mountaineers  which  has  seen  much  fighting. 
He  is  on  good  terms  with  my  Dalmatian  serviteiir, 
Pedro  Sckoppegalia.  I  hope  the  forester's  name 
is  not  so  unpronounceable  as  Pedro's. 

Besides  guarding  the  forest,  vines  and  fruits  of 
the  isles,  these  men  act  as  private  guards  to  houses 
and  grounds.  They  are  good,  orthodox  Greek 
Christians  ;  and  whether  as  Slavs  or  Greeks,  I  sup- 
pose they  love  Russia  more  than  Turkey.  There 
are  not  many  of  them,  but  they  give  picturesque- 
ness  to  the  scene. 

No  robbers  are  on  the  isle.  As  some  one  said 
to  me  :  "  If  a  robber  should  make  a  raid  here,  how 
could  he  get  off  the  island  without  being  caught?" 
The  beggars  are  few  and  are  easily  satisfied. 
They  are  a  law  and  a  police  to  themselves.  There 
does  not  seem  much  necessity  for  these  guardians 
of  the  vine  and  pine,  fig  and  pomegranate,  for  few 
people  here  lock  their  doors  at  night,  much  less 
their  garden  gates. 

Altogether  the  population  seems  to  be  happy 
and  contented.  Whether  it  be  the  fisherman  sit- 
ting on  the  sand,  mending  his  nets  after  the  apos- 
tolic method,  or  the  little  girls  plucking  the  grapes 
in  the  vineyard  and  figs  in  the  orchards,  or  the 
women  attending  their  children  and  their  washing, 
the  song  ever  goes  up  from  cheerful  throats  and 
well-fed  stomachs.  The  prevalent  song  is  Greek. 
It  has  a  weird,  quaint  melody  of  which  I  have 


ALBANIAN    POLICE. 


NO  NEED  OF  POLICE.  l  g 

heard  snatches  in  some  comediettas  at  the  Casino 
in  New  York. 

There  can  be  little  use  in  having  much  police 
on  the  islands,  as  at  nearly  every  point  you  meet 
groups  of  honest  people.  The  carriers  with  their 
kegs  of  fresh  water  on  their  donkeys,  the  fruit 
venders  and  foot  peddlers,  and  the  donkey-drivers 
or  parties  are  everywhere.  Bevies  of  girls  and 
children  are  in  the  woods,  sitting  on  or  playing 
among  the  rocks,  or  ensconced  amidst  the  aromatic 
shrubbery.  There  are  no  Naiads  here.  All  are 
Dryads  ;  for  there  are  no  fountains,  only  wells  ; 
and  trees  in  plenty,  where  the  wood  nymphs  cluster 
and  chatter  and  laugh  their  golden  moments  away. 
Sometimes,  wlfen  the  bands  play  at  the  restaurants, 
or  a  Bohemian  comes  along  with  his  hand-organ, 
the  young  folks  have  a  dance.  There  is  much 
provision  on  the  isle  for  picnics  and  parties.  The 
steamer  from  the  city,  especially  on  Sunday,  brings 
its  thousands  to  the  isle  for  pastime,  and  they 
make  the  hours  fly  on  winged  feet. 

Although  there  are  many  and  various  people  so- 
journing on  the  isle — some  of  whom  are  occasion- 
ally addicted  to  bier  de  Vienne,  and  the  horrid 
mastic  or  whiskey  of  the  country — I  have  not  seen 
one  case  of  drunkenness,  fighting,  or  quarrelling. 
The  policeman,  therefore,  when  not  a  gay  and 
happy  forester  is  almost  supererogatory. 

The  roads  are  in  admirable  repair,  and  fit  for 


!6  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

the  finest  vehicles.  Occasionally  an  invalid  lady 
ascends  the  mountain  in  the  old  sedan  chair.  The 
paths  up  and  down  are  for  donkeys  and  promenad- 
ers,  who  flock  over  the  island  from  morning  till 
evening,  in  search  of  cool  spots  and  al  fresco  din- 
ing. Now  and  then  these  social  amenities  indicate 
a  church/^  or  love  making;  for  the  women  of 
the  isle  have  rare  Hellenic  beauty  and  coquettish 
ways.  Besides  these  promenaders,  you  meet  fre- 
quently the  peddlers  of  all  kinds  of  wares,  cakes, 
confections,  fruit — and  water.  Everything  you 
want  here,  from  a  needle  to  a  pair  of  shoes,  from 
a  peach  to  a  glass  of  ice-cream,  is  brought  to  your 
very  hand.  The  water  that  you  drink  is  drawn 
from  wells  in  the  valleys  on  the  north  and  south 
sides  of  the  isle.  The  proprietors  own  a  donkey 
drove.  They  fill  four  casks  of  pure  cool  water 
from  the  deep  wells,  rope  the  casks  with  equipoise 
dexterously  on  the  donkey's  back,  and  dispense  it 
around  to  the  private  houses  and  restaurants. 
Water  costs  about  half  a  piaster  a  keg,  or  two 
cents.  Some  of  these  venders  of  water  and  things 
are  hamals.  They  bear  great  loads  from  the  scala 
and  ferries  to  any  part  of  the  island.  They  are 
duplicates  of  the  stalwarts  of  Stamboul,  who  can 
carry  600  or  700  pounds  of  furniture,  trunks,  or 
what  not  up  the  hills  and  never  turn  a  hair. 

In   my   summer  life   here,   I  have  yet  to  meet 
from  the  people,  old  or  young,  one  act  or  look  of 


NO  BAD  BOYS. 


discourtesy,  or  observe  one  Bad  Boy  made  after 
the  similitude  of  Peck's.  The  Greek  origin  of  the 
people  has  given  them  graces  beyond  the  reach  of 
art,  and  my  summer  at  Prinkipo  has  been  a  revel 
in  the  very  heart  of  nature. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ISLES  OF  THE  PRINCES THEIR    GEOGRAPHY  AND    HIS- 
TORICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 

THE  map  will  show  the  relative  position  of  the 
isles  to  Prinkipo  and  to  each  other  and  to  the 
main  land  and  city  of  Constantinople.  Oxia  and 
Plati  seem  from  the  other  isles  like  barren  rocks 
in  the  sea.  This  is  one  of  the  illusions.  Proti, 
Antigone  and  Halki  are  about  of  equal  size. 
They  are  nearest  the  city.  Androvichi  lies  east 
of  Prinkipo.  It  has  but  one  resident  on  it.  You 
may  guess  his  occupation  by  the  great  gash  he 
has  made  on  its  western  side,  from  whence  comes 
the  marble  and  out  of  which  he  makes  the  lime  for 
transportation  to  the  city.  This  isle  has  no  culti- 
vation, unless  the  smoke  that  ascends  from  his 
lime  kilns  indicates  an  ancient  cult  and  a  pious 
sacrifice  which  Homer  so  frequently  records. 

Nyandros,  another  island,  is  off  the  southern  end 
of  Prinkipo.  From  the  top  of  this  latter  island 
Nyandros  seems  to  be  a  part  of  Prinkipo,  but  it  is 
really  two  miles  away.  Pita  is  a  very  small  islet, 
between  Halki  and  Antigone.  It  is  not  peopled. 
The  other  islands  are  visited  by  strangers  as  sum- 

tl8 


THE  MONASTERY  OF  CHRISTOS.  l^ 

mer  resorts,  besides  having  a  goodly  number  of 
inhabitants  who  live  there  the  year  round.  Prin- 
kipo,  however,  is  the  chief.  It  is  facile  firinceps. 
The  island  is  some  ten  miles  around,  with  a  rare 
variety  of  mountain  and  intervale. 

The  Turkish  name  for  Prinkipo  is  Buyuk-Ada, 
or  "  Large  Isle."  This  is  the  appellation  given  to 
it  by  the  ancient  Byzantines.  The  history  and 
reminiscences  connected  with  the  ancient  nunnery 
established  in  this  place,  and  to  which  the  Empress 
Irene  was  provisionally  confined,  are  more  or 
less  accurately  given  in  Schlumberger's  "  lies  des 
Princes."  Where  the  monastery  of  St.  Michael's 
now  stands,  on  the  northern  side  of  the  isle, 
there  existed  in  former  times  a  large  village.  It 
was  called  by  the  Byzantines  "  Karya."  The 
church  attached  to  that  monastery  used  to  serve  as 
the  parish  church  of  the  village.  The  monastery 
now  belongs  to  the  patriarchate  •  of  the  Greek 
Church  and  is  rented  by  an  abbot. 

The  monastery  of  Christos  is  also  of  very  an- 
cient date.  Beginning  from  just  beyond  our  villa, 
on  the  mountain  side,  its  premises  run  down  to 
the  Diaskalon  or  picnic  grounds.  The  sur- 
rounding lands  belong  to  this  monastery.  Up  to 
1870  the  building  was  a  perfect  mass  of  wooden 
ruins,  including  the  church.  In  that  year  the  pres- 
ent Patriarch  of  Alexandria,  then  Patriarch  of 
Constantinople,  having  been  deposed  from  his  bea- 


20  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

tific  title  and  place,  retired  to  Prinkipo.  He  set  to 
work  to  restore  the  tumbledown  wooden  hut  which 
served  as  a  chapel.  With  the  help  of  contribu- 
tions from  wealthy  friends,  the  church,  under  the 
personal  superintendence  of  the  ex-Patriarch,  was 
rebuilt  of  stone  as  it  now  stands.  The  monastery 
itself  was  only  restored  last  year,  1885,  by  the 
present  abbot,  mostly  at  his  own  expense.  This 
abbot  is  an  active  and  hard-working  man.  He 
devotes  his  whole  time  to  the  cultivation  of  the 
lands  belonging  to  the  monastery.  He  is  also  a 
large  wine  and  spirit  brewer,  and  the  products  of 
his  brewery  are  renowned  all  over  Constantinople 
for  their  purity  and  excellence. 

I  am  sure  from  observation  and  taste  that  the 
wine  of  the  isle  is  more  plentiful  and  delicious 
than  the  water.  The  latter  is  nearly  as  costly  as 
the  wine. 

I  have  been  told  by  those  who  have  dug  on  the 
island  for  water  that  Prinkipo  is  somewhat  different 
from  the  other  islands  geologically  and  mineralog- 
ically,  and  that  parts  of  it  differ  from  other  por- 
tions. This  is  accounted  for,  of  course,  by  some 
remote  cataclysm.  Like  the  other  isles  it  has  its 
depressions  and  elevations.  These  give  a  curva- 
ture to  the  horizon  which  adds  many  a  grace. 
Upon  the  tops  of  the  mountainous  portions  are 
situated  Greek  colleges  and  monasteries.  These 
give  the  name  of  "  Scholastic  "  to  Halki,  and  would 


THE  DA  Y  BE  GINS  A  T  SUNSE  T.  2 1 

give  that  of  "  Pious  "to  Prinkipo  were  not  Prin- 
kipo so  superb  in  her  worldly  adornments. 

Halki  has  three  seminaries  of  learning :  two 
Greek  and  one  Turkish.  The  last  is  a  naval 
school.  Prinkipo  has  three  monasteries.  These 
isles,  especially  Halki  and  Prinkipo,  are  accessible 
from  the  city  of  Constantinople  by  the  Shirket 
ferry.  It  leaves  the  bridge  over  the  Golden  Horn 
several  times  a  day,  and  makes  the  trip  in  an  hour 
and  a-half.  The  Turk  sets  his  clock  and  watch  by 
the  sun.  He  begins  his  day  at  sunset.  The  time, 
therefore,  varies.  This  produces,  until  you  are 
accustomed  to  it,  many  misadventures.  The  pop- 
ulation who  come  to  these  islands  consult  the  daily 
journals  for  the  exact  minute  when  the  boats  leave 
the  bridge  at  Constantinople  and  the  quai  at  the 
isles.  There  are  two  good  hotels  in  the  town  of 
Prinkipo,  and  these  are  well  patronized  in  sum- 
mer. Of  the  other  isles,  besides  Prinkipo,  I  will 
hereafter  dilate  at  pleasure,  for  from  Prinkipo 
with  our  steam  launch,  which  Congress  was  good 
enough  to  vote  the  minister,  we  can  take  our  time 
to  visit  and  revisit  these  gems  of  the  sea. 

What  historic  events  have  these  isles  witnessed 
during  the  thousand  years  of  Greek  empire  in  the 
East  ?  What  palaces  and  prisons  were  here  erected 
for  living  and  fallen  greatness  when  in  power  or 
banished?  What  did  the  Empress  Irene  in  the 
ninth  century  for  Prinkipo,  when  it  was  at  the  sum- 


22  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

mit  of  its  splendor  ?  What  has  become  of  the  very 
dust  of  these  Grecian  worthies  and  rulers,  since 
the  conquest  of  Constantinople  in  A.  D.  1453,  by 
the  Moslem  ?  How  happens  it  that  only  a  few 
old  monastic  relics  remain  upon  this  consecrated 
ground  ?  These  are  questions  under  a  veil  of  tra- 
dition, if  not  history,  which  even  the  regeneration 
of  these  lands  has  failed  to  bring  fully  to  the  light. 

The  tourist  who  travels  with  Murray's  red-book 
in  hand  will  be  disappointed  at  its  meagre  men- 
tion of  the  Princes  Isles.  It  gives  hardly  a  stick- 
ful to  Halki ;  and  as  for  Prinkipo  there  is  scarcely 
a  finger's  length  of  matter,  and  that  has  reference  to 
the  Empress  Irene.  That  reference  is  all  too  brief, 
for  the  empress  was  a  grand  figure  in  history  at  a 
grand  epoch.  It  hints  at  some  spectacle  of  fallen 
greatness  and  vanished  splendor  witnessed  in  the 
first  year  of  the  ninth  century,  when  Irene,  the 
contemporary  of  Charlemagne  and  Haroun-Al- 
Raschid  was  banished  from  the  throne  of  Byzan- 
tium to  the  convent  which  she  had  built  at  Prin- 
kipo. The  convent  remains  on  the  north-eastern 
side  of  the  island,  and  from  its  lofty  site  sweeps  a 
splendid  horizon  of  continent,  isle  and  sea. 

This  description  was  provocative.  I  sent  to 
London  and  Paris,  and  scanned  the  libraries  here, 
to  find  a  full  account  of  the  antiquities  and  per- 
sonnel of  this  once  regal  isle.  I  heard  of  but 
one  volume  in  French,  by  a  German,  Gustave 


GIBBON'S  PICTURE  OF  THE  EAST.  23 

Schlumberger,  which  would  serve  to  elucidate  the 
spectacle.  But  even  this  volume  is  faulty.  I  doubt 
if  the  writer  ever  visited  the  isles.  Gibbon  is 
always  near,  and  so  I  turn  to  his  grandiose  pict- 
ure of  the  Eastern  Empire  ;  but  even  he  fails  to 
give  much  of  interest  about  the  empress  and  other 
great  personages,  in  their  relation  to  our  isle.  In 
his  forty-eighth  Chapter,  he  makes  a  rdsumd  of  five 
centuries  of  the  decline  and  fall,  and  he  has  eight 
more  centuries  before  Constantinople  succumbs  to 
the  Turk.  He  pursues  its  "  tedious  and  uniform 
state  of  weakness  and  misery."  He  has  "  cor- 
nered "  the  great  Roman  name  in  the  lonely  sub- 
urbs of  Constantinople.  "  As  in  his  daily  pray- 
ers, the  Mussulman  of  Fez  or  Delhi  turns  his 
face  toward  Mecca,"  so  the  historic  eye,  as  he 
phrases  it,  "  is  always  fixed  on  Constantinople." 
Making  this  prelude  the  historian  proceeds  with 
stately  step  to  open  the  prologue  of  swelling 
drama  in  which,  then  as  now,  Latins,  Greeks,  Bul- 
garians, Russians  and  Turks  play  their  parts. 
Upon  this  stage  moves  Leo  IV.,  son  of  the  fifth 
Constantine.  This  Emperor  Leo  took  an  Athe- 
nian orphan  girl  to  wife.  She  had  great  personal 
accomplishments.  He  was  feeble ;  she  was  not. 
It  is  the  old  story  ;  she  was  the  ruler  of  the  Em- 
peror, and  at  his  death,  by  his  will  became  Em- 
press-Guardian of  all  the  Eastern  Empire.  The 
Prince,  their  son,  Constantine  VI.,  became  her 


24  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

anxiety  and  care,  next  after  the  restoration  of  the 
worship  of  images,  of  which  she  was  the  champion. 
This  image-worship  was  the  burning  question  of  her 
time.  Upon  this  question  thrones  were  upturned 
and  synods  thundered.  The  iconoclasts  had  been 
in  arms  and  had  been  successful.  After  many 
trials  the  Prince  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  throne 

o 

and  humiliating  his  mother,  but  he  was  soon  de- 
throned by  a  counterplot  of  the  wily  Irene.  She 
had  his  eyes  put  out.  She  had  him  assassinated. 
Ambition  stifled  all  the  good  in  her  nature. 
Her  crimes  were  horrible,  but  not  more  so  than  the 
crime  of  many  other  rulers  at  Byzantium  during 
the  Greek  dynasties.  Putting  out  the  eyes  and 
banishment  to  monasteries  seem  to  have  been  the 
favorite  penalty  and  pastime  of  princes  in  those 
days  of  unparalleled  cruelty.  Irene  held  her  ill- 
gotten  power  only  five  years.  She  was  wont  to 
pass  through  Constantinople  in  her  golden  char- 
iot, drawn  by  four  milk-white  steeds.  Their  reins 
were  held  by  patricians  who  had  been  made 
eunuchs  by  her  edict.  These  eunuchs,  with  the 
cunning  of  that  class,  conspired  against  her.  The 
great  treasurer,  Nicephorus,  led  the  conspiracy. 
He  was  secretly  invested  with  the  purple  and 
crowned  in  St.  Sophia.  Irene  sought  a  retreat 
from  her  perfidious  treasurer.  This,  her  prayer, 
was  granted  ;  but  when  she  requested  her  treasures, 
they  were  refused  her;  for  was  he  not  a  good 


EMPRESS  IRENE  AND  HER  TREASURER.  35 

treasurer  ?  But  he  graciously  allowed  her  to  re- 
tire honorably  to  the  monastery  of  Prinkipo. 
It  seems  that  this  was  too  near  Byzantium  for  his 
comfort,  for  he  banished  her  to  the  Island  of  Les- 
bos. There,  like  good  Penelope,  she  endeavored 
to  atone  for  her  unnatural  crimes  by  a  life  of  labor 
at  the  distaff.  With  this  simple  implement  the 
empress,  who  had  revelled  in  all  the  splendors  of 
the  Blachernal  palace,  was  enabled  to  earn  a 
scanty  subsistence. 

What  remains  of  the  old  Byzantine  civilization  ? 
Nothing  but  the  walls,  and  even  their  eternity  of 
strength  has  been  broken.  When  the  spring 
comes  with  its  foliage,  the  moat  around  the  towers 
that  once  protected  the  great  city  is  a  vegetable 
garden,  and  the  blossoms  of  the  peach,  plum  and 
the  pomegranate  give  to  its  grassy  mound  their 
beauty  and  fragrance.  What  changes  have  taken 
place  !  Who  can  tell  whether  man  or  nature,  the 
sword  or  the  earthquake,  hath  produced  them  ? 
When  I  was  in  Constantinople  in  1851  I  saw  a 
large  porphyry  sarcophagus.  It  was  once  the 
tomb  of  the  Empress  Irene,  when  she  was  buried 
in  Prinkipo.  It  had  been  converted  into  a  water 
tank.  It  was  in  the  old  hippodrome.  It  is  no 
longer  even  there.  It  matters  not  to  us  in  Amer- 
ica or  elsewhere  now,  what  became  of  her  tomb  or 
of  her  treasurer.  There  may  have  been  a  Lord 
Elgin  for  the  removal  of  the  one  and  a  convenient 


26  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Canada  in  the  archipelago  for  the  other.  One 
reign  was  similar  with  that  of  others.  Another 
ruler  soon  follows.  Eye  after  eye  is  put  out  with 
red  hot  irons  ;  and  so  on,  until  the  Turk  comes, 
though  with  a  scimitar — yet  with  some  clemency— 
about  the  year  that  Columbus  went  to  seek  Ca- 
thay. 

The  purple  robe  of  the  Orient  which  enveloped 
Constantinople,  and  whose  resplendent  fringes 
hung  over  these  isles,  was  associated  with  the 
orthodox  Greek  religion.  There  was  a  closer 
relation  of  Church  and  State  here  than  the  union 
of  civil  and  religious  power  at  Rome.  At  no  age, 
or  country7,  was  there  ever  so  permanent  a  system 
with  so  much  of  intrigue,  cruelty,  bloodshed  and 
war,  as  at  this  historic  point.  It  is  the  verdict  of 
history  that  the  incoming  of  the  Turk  was  a  bless- 
ing to  mankind. 

In  all  these  phases  of  power  the  monastery 
has  played  a  great  part.  Nearly  all  that  remains 
in  these  Islands  of  the  Princes  of  the  evidences 
and  emblems  of  ancient  empire  are  these  old 
religious  houses.  They  are  not  numerous,  but 
they  are  monuments  of  Greek  rule,  long  in  con- 
tinuance, and  at  times  resplendent  in  scholarship 
and  jurisprudence.  The  Turks  were  iconoclasts. 
They  spared  little.  Few  of  the  images  of  the 
orthojdox  church  escaped  their  spoliation.  They 
were  religionists.  They  carne  with  fire  and  fury. 


A  BYZANTINE  SARDANAPALU$.  27 

Manuscripts,  pictures,  statues,  altars  and  struct- 
ures fell  before  the  Sultanic  baton.  Blindings 
and  mutilations,  however, — crimes  so  horrible  as 
to  make  Gibbon's  page  blush, — no  longer  incarna- 
dined the  azure  Bosphorus  or  Propontis.  In 
looking  here  for  relics  of  those  regal  and  monastic 
eras  we  find  few.  Even  the  pictures  which  the 
muse  of  history  paints  are  but  meagre,  grimed 
and  almost  colorless.  Open  a  page  of  Gibbon. 
Read  the  story  of  these  emperors.  Select  one 
whom  you  may  call  a  sample.  Take  Manuel. 
He  was  a  Comnenus.  In  war  he  could  not  fight 
for  peace ;  and  in  peace  he  was  incapable  of  war. 
He  was  an  anchorite  in  the  camp  ;  a  Sardanapa- 
lus  in  the  palace.  No  sooner  did  he  return  from 
the  field  to  Constantinople  than  he  resigned  him- 
self to  the  arts  and  pleasures  of  a  life  of  luxury. 
The  expense  of  his  dress,  table  and  palace  sur- 
passed the  measure  of  his  predecessors.  Whole 
summer  days  were  idly  wasted  on  these  delightful 
isles  of  the  Propontis,  in  the  incestuous  love  of  his 
niece,  Theodora — gift  of  God,  in  the  euphony  of 
this  rich  tongue.  Here  and  there  we  have  such 
horrible  hints  as  to  these  lovely  isles,  in  the  front 
of  history ;  but  in  vain  have  I  looked  for  the 
grand  palaces,  or  even  their  ruins,  in  this  isle. 
Outside  of  the  monasteries  I  have  found  but  one 
old  tower  of  doubtful  tradition,  and  the  founda- 
tions of  what  is  known  as  Irene's  palace.  The  last 


2g  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

are  on  the  north  side  and  in  the  vale  that  divides 
the  two  high  points  of  the  island,  a  half-mile  from 
our  humble  villa.  You  will  know  the  spot  by  a 
dark-looking  cave  out  of  which  much  iron  has 
been  extracted.  It  is  on  the  left  hand  of  the  road 
as  you  drive -eastward  from  the  village.  As  you 
cross  the  stone  bridge  you  see  the  tower  and  the 
wide  foundations  nearly  hidden  beneath  the  red 
soil  and  abundant  foliage.  If  you  desire  some 
mosaics — or  something  else  archaeological — take  a 
pick,  and  do  as  my  neighbor,  Mr.  Edwin  Pears, 
author  of  the  "  Latin  Conquest,"  has  done  :  dig 
away  the  dirt  and  you  will  be  rewarded  for  the 
delving. 

When  this  palace  was  in  the  meridian  of  its 
existence,  and  before  the  Turks  razed  all  these  evi- 
dences of  Greek  luxury,  this  isle  was  as  pictur- 
esque as  art  and  opulence  could  make  it.  Being  in 
sight  of  Constantinople,  and  with  a  climate  where 
even  winter  smiles,  it  was  the  resort  of  princes 
and,  of  course,  of  the  troop  of  hypocrites,  parasites 
and  favorites  which  Walter  Scott  has  well  pictured 
in  his  "  Robert  of  Paris." 

What  a  race  the  Greeks  were  and  are  !  For  a 
thousand  years,  and  within  my  sight  upon  yonder 
Seraglio  Point,  and  here  upon  these  isles  of  their 
princes,  they  struggled  and  survived,  after  many 
an  exhaustive  contest  with  the  Barbarians  of 
the  North  and  the  Moslems  of  the  East.  Their 


THE  IONIAN  GREEKS.  2Q 

colonies  were  their  glory.  Here  the  Ionian  chil- 
dren of  old  Greece  still  held  supreme  honor.  Pre- 
cocious often,  but  always  intellectual,  they  ad- 
vanced in  nearly  all  that  modern  philosophy  can 
teach  ;  while  Athens,  the  eye  and  soul  of  their  pol- 
ity and  art,  "arose  to  an  empire  that  can  never 
perish  until  heroism  shall  cease  to  warm,  poetry  to 
delight  and  wisdom  to  instruct  the  future." 


CHAPTER    III. 

HEALTH  AND  OTHER  ATTRACTIONS  OF    PRINKIPO. 

THERE  are  250,000  Greeks  in  Constantinople, 
of  whom  there  are  120,000  r ayahs,  or  Turkish 
subjects.  When  Mohammed  II.  captured  Con- 
stantinople, as  I  have  said,  he  reserved  the  Isles 
of  the  Princes  for  the  use  of  the  Greeks  who 
chose  to  remove  there.  Some  thousands  sought 
these  isles  as  a  residence  ;  their  descendants  yet 
seek  them  as  such.  These  residents  are  the 
cream  of  the  Greek  population  of  the  city.  Their 
features,  especially  the  rich  complexion,  the 
straight  nose  in  a  line  with  the  symmetric  brow, 
seem  copied  from  one  model,  or  rather  that  model 
is  copied  from  nature.  I  find  that  model  upon  the 
wall  of  the  Greek  villa  of  which  the  writer  is  at 
present  the  occupant.  It  is  a  Minerva.  It  is 
grace,  dignity  and  wisdom  in  one. 

Thirty  years  ago,  just  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
Crimean  war,  a  lady — Mrs.  Hornby,  wife  of  an 
English  loan  commissioner  who  was  afterwards  a 
judge  in  Constantinople — wrote  a  brief  chapter  in 
her  book  about  the  delights  of  a  farm  on  this 
isle  of  Prinkipo.  She  said  :  "  We  could  buy  half 

30 


WEALTH  AND  ELEGANCE  OF  PRINKIPO.  31 

the  island,  with  a  garden  and  vineyard,  for  ^500, 
and  build  a  good  comfortable  house  with  a  fire- 
place and  every  comfort."  Now,  five  million 
pounds  sterling  would  not  buy  the  property  of  the 
town  proper,  much  less  the  splendid  mansions 
which  rise  and  front  street  on  street.  The  streets 
are  terraced  from  the  sea  up  the  mountain  side 
to  the  pine  forests  which  crown  the  summits. 

Upon  the  north-western  side  of  Prinkipo  there 
is  a  little  city  whose  villas  are  rare  in  elegance  and 
architecture,  whose  gardens  have  a  hesperidean 
fruitage  and  bloom,  and  whose  red-tiled  roofs  over 
the  white  or  yellow  buildings  add  a  refinement  to 
the  town  and  isle  which  the  bath  houses  at  the 
water's  edge,  upon  the  jutting  crags,  themselves 
ornamental,  in  vain  try  to  dispel.  The  rich  Greek 
merchants  and  bankers,  together  with  the  English, 
German,  French,  American,  Armenian  and  Swiss 
families,  who  summer  here,  have  not  only  spent 
their  money  freely  to  decorate  their  own  homes 
and  grounds,  but  they  have  made  winding  roads, 
up  hill  and  down,  which  cross  and  encircle  the 
island.  These  roads  are  embowered  most  of  the 
way  by  fig,  olive  and  stone-pine  trees.  The  culti- 
vated country  is  green  at  the  opening  of  the 
season  with  the  fig  bearing  its  fresh  fruit.  The 
vines  are  putting  forth  their  tender  grapes.  The 
pomegranates  blaze  with  scarlet  flowers.  Hun- 
dreds, nay  thousands,  of  people  come  to  the  isle 


32  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

from  the  city  for  health  and  recreation,  attracted 
by  these  parterres,  mansions  and  pineries.  They 
often  bring  their  provender  along. 

There  are  several  extensive  restaurants  on 
the  island,  where,  upon  the  smoothed  terraces, 
in  the  open  air  under  coniferous  canopies,  with 
convenient  tables  and  seats,  there  is  plentiful  and 
breezy  room  for  picnic  parties.  Many  invalids 
from  all  parts  of  the  East  are  ordered  here,  to 
drink  in  the  resinous  ozone,  while  they  lie  on  rugs 
under  the  groves  which  cover  most  of  the  isl- 
and elevations.  While  the  carriage  roads  are  as 
good  as  those  of  Central  Park,  the  principal  feat- 
ure of  the  isle  is  the  donkey  ride.  This  style  of 
locomotion  is  quite  as  common  here  as  in  Egypt  or 
the  Riviera.  The  donkeys  require  much  prodding 
and  are  not  comparable  with  those  of  Egypt. 
The  company  for  a  donkey  promenade  may  be 
made  up  of  a  dozen  or  more.  It  is  guarded  by 
the  Greek  donkey  man,  who,  whether  the  animals 
go  fast  or  slow,  keeps  up  with  the  pace,  and  steers 
the  beast  cunningly  by  the  tail,  up  hill  and  down, 
from  the  quay  on  the  north-west  to  the  rocky  top 
of  St.  George  on  the  south-east.  Upon  this 
height  is  a  monastery  of  old  associations,  and  an 
out-door  restaurant  with  its  conveniences  for  rest. 
What  a  prospect  is  here  upon  this  point,  overlook- 
ing land  and  sea,  reaching  from  San  Stefano  in 
Europe  to  Mount  Olympus  in  Asia  ;  and  from  the 


THE  THIRST  FOR  TRAVEL.  33 

north,  where  the  Alem  Dagh  lifts  its  mountainous 
observatory  of  1460  feet  for  the  tourist  from  Con- 
stantinople to  the  mysterious  islets  of  Oxia  and 
Plati,  which  leap  out  of  the  western  sea,  rock- 
ribbed  but  lovely  ! 

The  French  have  a  proverb  that  a  man  who 
drinks  once  will  drink  again.  It  applies  to  travel- 
ling adventures.  I  began  my  travels  to  the  Orient 
in  1851.  Since  then,  from  Hammerfest,  the  north- 
ernmost town  in  Europe,  to  the  Atlas  Mountains 
in  Africa  and  the  Nubian  Cataract  of  the  Nile,  and 
from  San  Francisco  west  to  Damascus  east,  I 
have  viewed  many  rare  scenes.  The^e  travels 
have  been  inspired  by  an  unrest  that  belongs  to 
my  nature,  by  a  curiosity  begotten  of  reading,  and 
by  a  romantic  sentiment  that  defies  the  practical. 
Bayard  Taylor's  "  Views  Afoot"  started  me  to  this 
land  of  the  Orient  thirty-five  years  ago.  But  the 
most  interesting  journey  of  my  life  carried  me  to 
the  Riviera  on  and  along  the  Corniche  road,  and 
from  thence  to  Corsica,  Spain  and  Algiers.  That 
trip  was  a  search  for  "  Winter  Sunbeams."  It  was  a 
sanitary  tour,  under  Dr.  Henry  Bennet's  direc- 
tion. The  same  prompting  from  an  eminent 
physician  of  Constantinople  impelled  me  to  this 
isle  of  Prinkipo,  here  to  summer.  I  had  not  seen 
these  isles  in  1851,  nor  when  I  again  visited  Tur- 
key in  1 88 1.  Last  summer,  1885,  we  made  a 
hurried  visit  here  in  the  launch  of  an  Armenian 
3 


34 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


banker.  He  is  an  American  citizen  and  flies  our 
flag,  when  the  Kai'macam  of  the  isle  permits,  over 
a  grand  tower  at  his  villa  overlooking  the  sea.  I 
had  then  a  glimpse,  in  the  gloaming  of  the  evening, 
and  in  a  ride  behind  his  high-stepping  bays,  of  the 
rare  mountains  and  valleys  over  which  these  roads 
run.  But  I  did  not  dream  then  of  the  affluence  of 
loveliness  and  sanitation  which  the  isle  possesses. 

The  question  may,  perhaps,  be  asked  :  "  How 
could  you,  as  an  officer  of  your  country,  accredited 
near  His  Majesty  at  Yildiz,  live  so  far  from  your 
post  as  the  island  of  Prinkipo,  which  is  fifteen 
miles  away,?  " 

To  this  inquiry  of  the  anxious  tax-payer  I  re- 
spond : 

First:  It  is  not  so  very  far.  I  could  reach  the 
Legation  Office  within  two  hours  from  my  home 
in  Prinkipo. 

Second  :  In  the  summer  season,  and  by  the  in- 
structions, I  was  not  required  to  be  at  the  Lega- 
tion more  than  twice  a  week ;  only  to  be  in  call. 
I  could  go  every  day,  as  I  generally  did  in 
the  summer,  if  not  for  business  certainly  for  re- 
creation. The  bulk  of  my  business  is  done  at 
the  island,  which  I  tried  to  make  an  agreeable  re- 
sort for  all  Americans  who  came  that  way. 

Third  :  It  was  a  health  resort ;  and  health  is  in- 
dispensable beyond  all  things.  In  the  summer 
Constantinople  itself,  or  Pera,  where  the  ambassa- 


PINE  FORESTS.     HEALTH. 


35 


dors   winter,    is    uninhabitable    by  reason    of    its 
stenches,  dogs  and  heat. 

Had  I  arranged  to  spend  another  summer  at 
Therapia,  on  the  upper  Bosphorus,  with  its  endless 
round  of  visits,  I  might  have  made  many  more 
acquaintances  and  been  more  useful,  perhaps,  in 
gathering  information  about  the  endless  Eastern 
imbroglio.  But  as  health  was  predominant  in  my 
mind,  I  concluded  to  forego  all  this,  in  order  to  en- 
joy the  refreshing  and  isolated  delights  of  Prinkipo. 
This  the  steam  launch,  voted  by  Congress,  happily 
seconded. 

Among  the  requisites  for  health,  and  especially 
in  pulmonary  and  rheumatic  disorders,  is  the  res- 
inous quality  of  the  pine.  Bishop  Berkley  saw 
the  poetic  Star  of  Empire  on  its  western  way ; 
but  he  made  also  some  practical  observations 
about  the  use  of  tar-water  in  consumption.  It  is 
an  old  remedy.  It  is  one  of  the  virtues  of  Prin- 
kipo. Every  breeze  is  laden  with  its  essence ; 
every  pine  needle  distils  it.  Some  years  ago  an 
attempt  was  made  in  Germany  to  utilize  the  pine- 
needle  for  making  paper.  It  becomes  apparent 
that  the  workmen  in  the  factory,  who  had  been 
sufferers,  are  by  handling  the  fibres  made  well. 
A  learned  doctor  makes  investigation.  He  discov- 
ers that  the  tissue  of  the  leaves  of  the  pine  is 
composed  largely  of  resinous  and  oily  particles 
with  curative  properties.  He  separates  the  fibres. 


2  6  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

He  finds  that  they  resemble  cotton  or  wool.  He 
gives  them  a  new  utility.  He  weaves  the  wool 
into  underclothing.  He  establishes  a  health-cure 
at  Lairitz.  He  is  hailed  as  a  benefactor  and  is  the 
recipient  of  many  medals.  Out  of  this  seeming 
quackery  cometh  the  pulse-warming  underwear 
which  is  now  working  its  marvellous  results.  But, 
as  I  found  out  for  my  own  comfort,  it  is  much  bet- 
ter to  inhale  this  subtle  property  than  to  wear  it 
in  flannels.  And  hence  my  sojourn  at  Prinkipo. 

Yet  for  all  that,  it  cannot  be  disguised  that  the 
beauty  of  the  isle  and  its  social  allurements  had 
much  to  do  with  separating  our  home  from  those 
of  the  other  Legations  which  summer  on  the  upper 
Bosphorus  at  Therapia  and  Buyukdere.  In  glanc- 
ing over  the  diary  of  my  wife,  I  find  some  para- 
graphs which  describe  these  attractions.  At  that 
time  we  made  the  journey  under  the  crescent  flag, 
in  the  hospitable  launch  or  mouche  of  our  host. 
The  voyage  thus  depictured  allured  us  hither  for 
our  second  year  in  the  Orient.  Along  with  some 
housewifely  suggestions  it  will  not  be  uninterest- 
ing to  the  female  reader  to  scan  a  page  or  two  of 
this  diary : 

At  ten  A.M.  we  are  afloat.  There  is  some  ques- 
tion as  to  the  proper  flag  to  sail  under.  We  natu- 
rally prefer  the  stars  and  stripes,  but  our  Capi- 
tano  has  already  hoisted  the  crescent  and  the  star, 
and  as  our  host  is  of  the  Sultan's  realm,  though  an 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  PRINKIPO.  3? 

American  citizen,  we  acquiesce.  Beside,  it  might 
be  difficult  to  explain  our  wishes  to  the  captain  or 
sailors,  since  all  on  board  are  Greeks  or  Arme- 
nians except  ourselves. 

We  leave  the  dock  at  Buyukdere  and  secure 
the  middle  of  the  stream  for  the  strongest  current. 
It  is  a  little  misty  toward  the  opening  at  the  Black 
Sea,  but  the  waters  are  indigo.  The  hills  on  the 
Asian  shore  are  seamed  and  scarred  by  quarrymen. 
Out  of  their  rocky  sides  many  ribs  have  been 
taken  to  give  life  to  the  city  below  and  the  villas 
and  palaces  around.  Upon  the  European  side  the 
hills  are  green,  in  varied  shades,  from  the  orange 
trees  in  the  gardens  at  the  water's  edge  to  the 
dark  umbrella  pines  above  upon  the  hills  and 
mountains.  Here  and  there  are  some  tints  of  a 
pale  green.  It  is  a  double  sign,  first  of  the  Ma- 
hometan color,  and  next  of  a  Turkish  barracks  and 
fort.  This  is  Sunday  and  all  the  flags  of  the  Le- 
gations are  flying.  Jason's  Mountain,  tipped  with 
a  minaret,  has  a  magic  look  and  a  far-away  expres- 
sion. Are  these  birds,  which  we  see  flecking  the 
blue  water  as  if  a  part  of  it  ?  Yes,  flocks  of  the 
"  condemned  souls,"  so  called,  which  never  seem 
to  alight.  They  fly  close  to  the  wavelets.  A  few 
crows  cross  the  stream  without  any  noise.  Some 
gulls  of  various  species  ride  like  Halcyon  on  the 
wave  or  dart  down  swiftly  after  schools  of  fish 
which  fret  the  water  in  dark  spots.  Porpoises 


38  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

come  up  and  tumble  back,  enjoying  their  Sunday 
out.  These  are  but  transient  objects,  and  the  eye 
returns  to  the  curving  lines  of  beauty  which  the 
hills  make  on  either  shore.  We  meet  many 
strange,  fantastic  sails — the  vessels  full  of  lumber 
from  the  Black  Sea  or  fruit  for  the  city  market. 
The  palaces  of  white  marble  seem  to  rise  out  of 
the  blue  water.  We  come  to  the  narrowest  place 
— Roumeli  Hissar,  with  its  grand  old  towers  and 
walls.  It  is  a  most  picturesque  spot.  It  combines 
with  sky,  water  and  land,  a  well-kept  cemetery  of 
the  Moslems  ever  so  unique,  and  antique  houses 
ever  so  strange,  dominated  by  these  towers  of  Mo- 
hammed II.,  above,  which  are  fit  associates  with 
the  running,  clear,  potential  stream  below.  Then, 
above  all,  we  see  the  Robert  College.  It  is 
American,  as  we  know.  I  ask  a  friend  : 

"  What  is  that  long  row  of  twenty  white  houses, 
all  alike,  over  in  Asia?" 

"  Warehouses  for  American  petroleum." 
Ah !  if  they  should  take  fire  at  night  Edwin 
Arnold  would  have  to  rewrite  his  "  Light  of  Asia." 
Now  and  then  the  landscape  is  smirched  by 
the  black  smoke  of  passing  ferry  steamers,  which 
ply  up  and  down  and  across  the  Bosphorus.  We 
pass  the  big  boats  which  under  French,  British, 
Russian  and  Austrian  ensigns  are  going  out  to 
breast  the  waves  of  the  Euxine  on  their  voyages 
to  Trebizonde,  the  Crimea,  Odessa  or  Varna,  for 


MISHAP  ON  THE  WA  Y.  ^ 

cargoes  of  grain  and  cattle  to  supply  the  millions 
of  mouths  in  and  about  the  capital.  Far  off,  un- 
der their  guise  of  misty  beauty,  lie  the  mountains 
of  Asia — Olympus  towering  with  a  double  crown  ! 

The  day  is  a  choice  one  as  to  wind  and  water. 
Our  chat  goes  merrily  round.  The  soldiers  are 
drilling  at  the  barracks  on  the  Straits  by  the  sound 
of  the  trumpet,  the  fishermen  and  venders  of  veg- 
etables ply  their  trade,  and  the  city  grows  dim 
and  dimmer  in  the  distance.  Now  a  quietude  set- 
tles over  our  company.  Some  draw  out  their 
books,  and  others  recline  on  the  divans  and  lazily 
watch  the  plashing  waves  in  the  wake  of  this  little 
dapper  darling  midshipmite  of- the  sea. 

But  we  are  nearing  our  island.  Lovely  terraces 
and  vine-clad  hills  greet  the  eye  in  every  direction. 
We  are  closing  up  packages  and  gathering  shawls 
and  coats,  when  a  sudden  cessation  in  the  ma- 
chinery creates  as  sudden  a  surprise.  "  We  are 
stranded,"  says  our  Capitano.  Our  friend  on  board 
immediately  lowers  the  flag  to  half-mast,  and  in  ten 
minutes  we  see  a  little  sail-boat  bearing  speedily 
towards  us.  Our  host  had  seen  the  mishap.  We 
are  soon  transferred  and  landed  at  the  scala,  or 
quay,  where  in  carriages  we  are  rapidly  driven  to 
our  destination.  The  gravelled  drive  to  the  steps, 
the  warm  greetings  on  the  balcony  and  the  chaffing 
as  to  cold  luncheons,  are  soon  over.  We  settle 
down  to  a  most  thorough  enjoyment  of  this  lovely 


40  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

island  home.  We  are  a  party  of  ten,  and  yet 
abundant  room  is  found  for  night  entertainment  as 
well  as  day.  The  grounds  without  are  terraced  to 
the  water's  edge.  Arbors,  fountains,  rustic  bridges 
and  cool  grottoes  tempt  the  straying  feet.  A  lawn- 
tennis  court  is  ready  for  its  devotees.  The  caiques 
lie  rocking  idly  on  the  water  within  reach  of 
those  romantically  inclined.  Even  a  small  barca 
is  unloading  its  generous  supply  of  oats  for  the 
stables  hard  by  at  this  private  wharf. 

The  house  is  large  and  airy — filled  with  bric-a- 
brac  of  every  description.  I  notice  one  peculiar- 
ity, similar  to  our  Southern  homes  !  The  "  cui- 
sine "  is  apart  from  the  house  ;  but  connected  there- 
to by  a  bridge. 

I  ask  the  hostess,  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

She  replies  :  "  Oh  !  we  call  that  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs." 

I  think  it  is  well  named,  if  the  mistress  has  often 
to  entertain  as  generously  as  she  is  doing  to-day. 
To  my  relief  I  found  out  afterward  that  there  was 
a  capable  housekeeper  on  the  premises  to  aid  our 
lady  hostess. 

One  thing  here  strikes  an  American  as  peculiar, 
and  yet  it  is  a  custom  that  might  well  be  introduced 
with  us.  I  refer  to  the  breakfast  hour.  Each 
guest  descends  to  the  dining-room  when  he  or 
she  may  choose,  or  may  ring  for  coffee  in  their 
rooms.  As  coffee  or  tea,  with  eggs  and  bread,  or 


AN  AMERICAN  HOME. 


some  kind  of  confiture,  jelly  or  jam  only  are  given, 
it  is  not  so  difficult  to  serve  one's  guests.  The 
custom  gives  ease  and  comfort  to  the  lazy  ones, 
and  does  not  interfere  with  early  risers. 

A  drive  around  the  island  develops  more  beauty 
and  shows  us  the  most  luxuriant  vegetation.  As 
we  are  lavish  in  our  admiration,  our  host  seems 
to  enjoy  our  pleasure  with  us. 

"  And  to  think,"  says  he,  ''it  is  only  four  years 
since,  that  I  took  these  bare  rocks  in  their  savage 
estate  and  have  thus  transformed  them.  All  the 
growth  of  tree  and  shrub  is  in  that  four  years." 

It  is  indeed  marvellous.  But  it  belongs  to  the 
islands.  It  is  entirely  characteristic  —  this  lux- 
urious growth  of  plants  and  trees  of  every  clime. 

"  But,"  I  ask  our  host,  "  where  did  you  get  this 
beautiful  finish  of  room  and  hall  ?  It  is  not  of  the 
Turk  —  Turkish  ?  It  looks  more  like  a  home  in 
America." 

tl  Ah  !  you  are  right  there,"  he  answers,  "  for 
every  door,  window  and  floor  was  imported  from 
the  United  States." 

Our  host  and  hostess  are  citizens  of  the  United 
States.  The  orders  given  in  the  Turkish  lan- 
guage seem  quite  musical  to  the  ear,  for  as  yet  I 
have  not  heard  much  beyond  street  cries,  which 
do  not  seem  melodious. 

All  visits  must  end.  The  pretty  little  three- 
year-old  son  of  the  host  prattles  away  ;  the  young 


42  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

maiden  daughter  receives  our  parting  adieus,  the 
host  and  hostess  are  hospitable  with  renewed  in- 
vitations, while  we  can  only  express  our  thanks 
and  pleasure  for  all  we  have  enjoyed.  It  has  been 
a  day  of  enjoyments  unique  indeed.  The  launch 
brings  us  safely  to  the  city.  Another  day  has 
gone  by,  idling  in  the  Orient,  but  one  rich  in 
delight  of  sun  and  wave,  sky  and  atmosphere,  and 
charming  entertainment.  As  I  turn  my  eye  to 
the  East,  to  leave  these  bluest  of  waters  and  skies, 
"  I  drag  at  each  remove  a  lengthening  chain." 

#####*## 

Would  you  know  how  a  cosmopolitan  thus  in- 
troduced to  the  Orient  settles  down  into  snug 
quarters  at  this  end  of  the  world  ?  It  is  not  diffi- 
cult, after  such  an  experience  as  the  foregoing. 
At  the  risk  of  being  tedious  I  will  tell  in  the  next 
chapter,  in  my  own  words,  something  more  of  our 
domesticities. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOME    LIFE    IN    PRINKIPO OUR    NEIGHBORS LITTLE 

GREEKS FISHERMEN  AND  SONGS. 

IF  our  jaded  American  citizens  can  race  across 
the  continent  to  the  Rockies  and  Sierras  to  find 
the  domes  of  the  Yosemite  and  the  geysers  of  the 
Yellowstone,  or  wander  amidst  the  Alps  of  Switzer- 
land and  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  or  sail  over 
the  Bay  of  Naples  and  through  the  fiords  of  Nor- 
way in  search  of  health  and  change  of  scene — 
why  may  they  not  venture  here,  to  these  "  Isles 
of  the  Princes  ? "  They  are  only  a  fortnight 
from  New  York,  or  four  days  from  Paris  by  the 
Oriental  express  railroad  via  Varna  to  Constanti- 
nople. A  day  at  Havre  or  Liverpool,  a  day  at 
Paris  or  London,  another  at  Vienna,  another  at 
glorious  Buda-Pesth,  a  dash  at  Varna  on  the 
Black  Sea,  and  the  next  morning,  at  daylight,  you 
are  at  Cavak  in  the  Bosphorus.  A  rest  at  Stam- 
boul,  arid  in  another  day  here  you  are  !  in  a  villa 
of  your  own  choosing,  or  at  a  hotel  where  there  is 
every  comfort,  and  where  the  scenery  is  unpar- 
alleled and  the  air  balmy. 

Appreciating  this  suggestion,  the  American  citi- 

43 


44  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

zen,  who  pays  for  his  minister  abroad,  will  allow  me 
to  make  a  picture  of  our  new  home  at  Prinkipo. 
Already  many  of  his  compatriots  of  both  sexes 
have  been  within  its  sanctuary. 

"Ah!"  exclaims  the  travel-tired  tourist  from 
Oregon  or  North  Carolina — "  ah  !  what  a  solace 
and  a  joy  to  see  the  blessed  old  banner.  No  such 
beautiful  ensign  have  I  seen  since  I  left  Sandy 
Hook.  God  bless  the  stars  and  stripes  !  It  is 
all  the  dearer  because  no  longer  streaming  upon 
sea  or  land  outside  of  America." 

Thus  is  the  loneliness  of  absence  from  home 
relieved  by  a  little  color,  and  a  symbol  which  ever 
recalls  to  us  our  nation's  pride  and  honor. 

Our  house  does  not  rival,  nor,  indeed,  equal  by 
many  degrees,  the  superb  chateaux  of  these  fair 
demesnes,  or  other  mansions  wherewithal  the  isle  is 
decorated  ;  but  for  seclusion,  scenic  prospect  and 
proximity  to  the  pine  forests, — as  well  as  nearness 
to  Legation  work, — it  is  all  that  the  student,  the 
doctor,  or  the  aesthetic  could  desire.  Half  way  up 
the  mountain, — it  faces  to  the  sea  and  the  north. 
From  its  windows,  if  one  could  pierce  the  mountain 
range  of  Asia  Minor,  there  would  be  seen  the  olden 
towers  of  Roumeli  and  Anatolia — the  ancient 
warders  of  the  Bosphorus.  But  who  would  dispense 
with  these  beautiful  ranges  of  mountains  even  for 
such  romantic  and  historical  additions  to  the  view. 
The  highest  peak  is  about  fifteen  hundred  feet. 


A    TERRESTRIAL  PARADISE.  ,r 

The  range  is  crescent-shaped,  as  if  emphasizing 
the  national  emblem.  The  foot  hills  and  open 
vales  reach  to  our  Marmoran  shore.  They  are 
covered  with  cultivated  fields  from  the  Pendik 
village  and  Phanar  banks  near  Kadi  Keui  to  the 
side  opposite,  far  across  the  Prinkipo  channel, 
which  is  here  over  two  miles  in  width.  What  a 
view  from  Stamboul  and  its  minarets  to  the 
white  houses  of  San  Stefano  on  the  European 
shore!  The  Prinkipo  channel,  along  with  the  isles 
of  our  small  archipelago,  is  a  lake  in  seeming. 
That  illusion  is  kept  up  as  the  sea  runs  south-east- 
erly into  the  Gulf  of  Ismid,  making  the  waters 
appear  enclosed  on  every  side.  Along  these 
shores  are  the  remains  of  empire  and  commercial 
greatness. 

The  mountains  on  this  coast  close  our  view. 
But  is  not  the  sea  blue  here,  and  the  bays  and 
harbors  charming  enough,  without  seeking  to  unroll 
the  endless  panorama  of  land  and  sea,  city  and  coun- 
try, towers  and  mosques,  mountains  and  clouds, 
which  this  terrestrial  paradise  furnishes  to  the  en- 
chanted eye?  Within  a  mile  from  our  eyrie  of 
observation  we  can  view  the  waves  shimmering  in 
the  morning  sun  and  snowy  sea  birds  riding  on 
the  deep  blue  waves.  Then  the  Asian  mountains 
are  meshed  at  dawn  in  an  airy  web  of  many 
hues  ;  at  noon,  behold  them  radiant  in  celestial 
light ;  and  at  eve, — see  the  glow  upon  them  from 


46  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

the  west  is  one  unclouded  blaze  of  roseate  and  im- 
purpled  living  light ! 

I  forget  our  household  !  One  cannot  live  upon 
the  whip-syllabub  of  descriptive  scenery,  however 
entrancing  the  view  may  be. 

We  found  a  villa  ready  to  be  rented  to  one  who 
could  "house-keep"  it  neatly.  We  wei£  approved 
as  apparently  the  proper  tenants  by  the  owner,  an 
elderly  Greek  lady  of  refinement  and  courtesy.  She 
lets  her  villa  to  us  as  she  is  about  to  depart  for  the 
summer,  to  visit  relatives  in  Athens.  She  leaves 
it  as  tidy  as  any  New  England  dame  could  wish. 
In  fact,  as  we  alight  at  her  gates  about  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  they  seem  to  fly  open  magically, 
and  as  we  cross  the  threshold  what  a  charming 
picture  is  presented  by  the  little  dining-table 
already  prepared  for  its  hungry  guests,  with  its 
hot,  steaming  soups,  and  ttageres  and  vases  all 
redolent  of  flowers,  spice  and  fragrance. 

But  how  can  the  masculine  pen  describe  the 
inner  sanctuary  of  a  home  ?  I  call  to  aid  the  new 
house-keeper  and  from  her  house-book  quote 
under  protest : 

I  said  to  a  friend:  "  Is  this  a  Greek  house?" 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know  that  you  would  call  it  that 
exactly  ;  it  is  a  house  of  the  country." 

Let  me  then  describe  this  "  house  of  the  coun- 
try "  :  The  tall  stone  walls  and  iron  grating  com- 
pose the  barrier  and  gateway.  They  are  deco- 


A  HOUSE  OF  THE  COUNTRY.  47 

rated  with  huge  pots  of  hydrangea,  in  full  bloom. 
The  bell-knob  hangs  at  this  outer  gate.  You 
enter  a  tessellated  plaza  before  the  house.  This 
admits  you  to  the  lower  rooms,  which  are  the 
servants'  quarters.  As  the  house  stands  on  the  side- 
hill,  to  find  the  front  entrance  you  turn  to  the 
right  and  ascend  the  white  marble  steps.  These 
steps  are  kept  immaculate  by  Michealis,  our 
bright  factotum.  Here  the  high  portico  offers  the 
main  entrance.  A  summer  arbor  covered  with 
that  house-decorating  plant,  the  wistaria,  reminds 
us  of  home,  and  graces  the  terrace.  Above  it 
waves  our  own  red,  white  and  blue  bunting,  for 
which  Admiral  Woods  Pasha,  a  neighbor,  has 
already  kindly  provided  a  lofty  staff.  Some  sym- 
metrical fir-trees,  a  fountain  with  gold-fishes  play- 
ing in  the  basin,  and  the  garden  in  miniature,  com- 
plete the  terrace  of  the  entrance.  The  black  and 
white  pebble-stones  set  on  edge  after  the  Pompeian 
manner,  form  fanciful  designs  of  flower  and  foliage 
in  the  pavement  which  extends  around  the  house. 
The  tessellated  walks  remind  us  of  the  harem 
gardens  of  Cairo  and  the  deserted  earthquaken 
streets  of  Chios.  A  huge  catalpa  and  a  drooping 
willow  adorn  the  kitchen  court.  The  steps  to  the 
upper  terraces  are  lined  with  fuchsia,  geranium, 
snow-white  jasmine,  verbena  and  other  gay  flower- 
ing plants,  while  the  terraces  are  fringed  with 
lemon  and  orange  trees,  whose  golden  fruit  would 


48 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


have  tempted  Adam  as  well  as  Eve.  It  is  quite 
beautiful  to  see  the  fruit  and  flowers  at  the  same 
time  upon  these  trees.  They  give  present  odor 
and  promise  for  the  future,  even  though  we  may 
not  be  the  happy  recipients  of  their  favors. 

Enter  the  house  and  you  are  at  once  in  a  large 
square  hall.  This  serves  in  summer-time  as  the 
general  social  room  of  the  family.  On  the  left 
and  right  are  four  large  rooms.  In  some  of  the 
more  palatial  houses  of  the  isle  the  entrance- 
hall  includes  two  such  end  rooms,  thus  making 
one  large  airy  apartment.  Upon  the  ground 
floor  we  find  a  library  and  dining-room,  both 
green  and  beautiful  with  foliage  and  flower. 
Folding  glass  doors  at  the  end  of  the  hall  may  be 
closed  for  winter  or  left  open  for  summer.  In 
either  case,  they  reveal  the  stairway  which  leads 
to  an  equally  open  and  airy  hall  above,  supplied 
with  wide  divans  in  addition  to  other  furnishings. 
The  bow-window  here  extends  over  the  portico. 
It  makes  an  exceedingly  attractive  lounging 
or  smoking  room.  In  the  cities  of  the  East  it 
is  the  practice  to  build  this  bow-window  projecting 
over  the  street  below,  and  at  four  or  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  it  is  always  occupied  by  a  merry 
group  taking  tea,  sweets,  fruit,  or  Turkish  coffee. 
Here  they  receive  visitors  or  survey  the  outside 
world  of  gay  promenaders,  and  make  laughing 
comments  on  all  that  meets  the  eye. 


VEGETABLE  VENDERS.  ^ 

We  are  happy  in  finding  our  island  home  far 
up  in  the  pure,  dry  air  of  the  mountain  amidst  the 
forests  of  pine.  Every  room  has  the  indispensa- 
ble divan  ;  and  from  the  windows  we  have  the  ever 
lovely  views  of  the  Sea  of  Marmora  and  the  Asian 
land,  with  their  never  tiring  and  ever  changing 
phases.  Even  now,  at  the  outset  of  our  experi- 
ence, we  have  oranges,  figs,  and  many  vegetables 
from  the  gardens  above,  which  are  included  in  our 
leasehold. 

It  is  amusing  to  hear  the  juvenile  street  venders 
call  out  in  their  long  drawling  falsetto  some  of 
these  vegetables.  The  simple  word  bamia,  be- 
comes ba-ha-mi-a-a-ah  !  This  vegetable  is  a  nov- 
elty to  us.  It  is  not  among  our  American  prod- 
ucts ;  but  it  proves  to  be  relishable.  All  vegeta- 
bles and  goods  are  "  cried  "  before  sold.  They 
come  to  your  door  on  the  numerous  donkeys  that 
throng  the  island,  or  on  the  backs  of  the  peddlers 
who  carry  great  show-cases  of  their  wares.  The 
cries  of  the  venders  are  monotonous,  but  they  are 
often  varied  by  the  recitation  of  some  blind  strolling 
beggar.  The  latter  goes  his  customary  rounds 
and  enlivens  the  intense  quietude  of  our  surround- 
ings by  his  plaintive  appeal,  in  some  verse  of  the 
Koran  inculcating  charity.  I  must  say  that  he 
merits  some  reward,  if  it  is  only  for  his  forbear- 
ance to  ring  the  area-bell,  with  which  our  street 
mendicants  of  New  York  are  all  too  familiar. 


50  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Our  gardener  comes  to  us  daily  with  his  floral 
offering  for  the  table.  There  is  always  efflores- 
cence enough  for  change  and  variety.  This  morn- 
ing, for  instance,  Xenophon's  bouquet  consists  of 
the  snow-white,  sweet-scented  jasmine.  He  looks 
quite  pleased  when  I  compliment  its  beauty  and 
his  taste.  I  ask  to  see  his  manner  of  arranging 
the  flowers.  He  has  cut  a  pine  branch  with  its 
needles,  and  each  tiny  blossom  is  strung  on  each 
needle  point,  thus  saving  the  ravages  of  the  scis- 
sors on  the  plant,  and  making  a  neat  cluster 
bouquet  in  quicker  time  than  our  laborious  gar- 
deners with  their  broom-stick  stems  could  rival. 

Thus  far  you  have  been  favored  with  a  glance 
into  the  diary  of  the  newly  inaugurated  mistress 
of  the  house. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  know  upon  what  we 
Greco-Americans  subsist  for  food.  Our  milk  and 
butter  come  cheaply  enough.  They  come  across 
the  channel  from  Asia,  from  the  fine  farms  upon 
the  slopes  of  the  distant  mountains.  These  farms 
are  in  sight.  They  are  rich  in  fruit  as  well  as  in 
kine.  We  were  told  that  we  should  find  one  treas- 
ure in  our  Greek  home — a  goat.  For  awhile  we 
tried  our  domestic  sheep's  and  goats'  milk.  Bah  ! 
There  is  nothing  like  the  original  cow.  There 
lies  before  me,  in  the  shape  of  a  foot-long  pine 
stick,  our  milk  account  !  It  is  marked  with  many 


ORIENTAL  BOOK-KEEPING.  $l 

notches.  On  it  my  wife  has  written  "  56  oks." 
An  ok  is  about  two  and  a-half  pounds,  or  in  liquid 
about  a  quart.  The  month's  account  is  on  the 
stick.  This  is  not  an  original  plan  of  keeping  ac- 
counts. It  is  aboriginal  in  many  lands.  It  struck 
us  as  convenient  and  honest ;  and  when  rendered, 
there  was  no  need  of  calling  in  arbitration.  The 
amount  due  at  the  end  of  the  month  was  summed 
up  in  notches  and  piasters. 

The  caiques,  which  whiten  with  their  sails  our 
lake-like  sea,  bring  to  our  docks  the  finest  melons 
of  every  variety.  Among  them  is  our  nutmeg  ; 
but  the  best  is  the  cassova.  Its  color  within  is 
golden  and  its  meat  honey,  with  a  dash  of  musk 
and  spice.  Grapes  soon  begin  to  adorn  Our  table. 
They  are  of  various  kinds  ;  but  there  is  one  peer- 
less kind.  No  fruit  has  ever  been  grown  upon 
other  parts  of  the  earth  equal  to  the  fruit  which 
September  welcomes  here,  chief  of  which  is  the 
grape  known  as  tchaouch  uzum.  While  Europe 
and  America  may  excel  in  pears,  apples  and  plums, 
Asia  has  the  most  delicious  fruit  of  royal  clusters. 
The  tchaouch  is  of  pure  gold  and  of  plum-like  size 
and  rotundity.  Its  very  pronunciation  makes  the 
mouth  moisten.  The  hills  around  Tcham  Lidja, 
where  these  grapes  grow,  are  the  Mecca  of 
crowds  of  the  lovers  of  this  Bacchanalian  fruit. 
Here  the  harem  makes  its  visit,  breakfasting  on 
these  grapes  and  bread.  Sometimes  this  exquisite 


52  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

fruit  is  dried  for  winter  use,  but  generally  it  is  too 
rich  to  be  spoiled  in  that  way.  Amber  is  not  more 
beautiful  in  color.  The  cluster  is  very  large  and 
weighty.  It  seems  bursting  with  a. fruity  bloom 
and  gives  such  aroma  and  flavor  that  the  bees  fol- 
low it  into  the  very  penetralia  of  our  salle  a  man- 
ger. This  luscious  vintage  inspires  poetic  fancies, 
even  before  it  is  trodden  in  the  wine-press— 

"  Less  fragrant  scents  the  unfolding  rose  exhales." 

Peaches,  plums,  apricots  and  nectarines  make  up 
a  picture  for  the  table  as  well  as  a  feast  for  the 
epicure.  For  meats,  we  have  lamb  and  mutton, 
beef  and  chickens ;  for  vegetables,  there  are  varie- 
ties not  known  to  the  cuisine  of  the  West,  among 
which  is  the  damia,  only  not  our  bean,  but  more 
unctuous  and  toothsome  than  the  marrow-fat  pea. 
What  could  we  wish  for  beside  ?  Fish  ?  Yes,  the 
Propontis  is  the  resting-place  of  the  "  fishy  Bos- 
phorus,"  as  it  was  called  in  ancient  days.  It  is  the 
home  of  the  fish  called  the  mullet,  as  well  also  of 
the  turbot  and  the  mackerel,  and  a  dainty,  shining, 
nameless  little  beauty,  quite  delicate  even  without 
sauce.  These  disportively  abound.  The  fishing 
with  hook  and  line  is  spoiled  by  the  nets  which  one 
sees  actively  employed  at  all  hours,  and  wherever  the 
shelving,  pebbly  shores  and  eddies  invite.  Indeed, 
the  isles  are  surrounded  with  fishers'  nets.  You 
may  see  their  high  poles  standing  in  the  bays,  and 


PEDDLER   OF   MEATS. 


THE  'TALLIEN  FISH  TOWERS.  ^ 

a  platform  or  lookout  attached,  where  a  fisherman 
watches  for  the  schools  late  into  the  night.  These 
nets  are  placed  so  as  to  catch  the  current,  and  as 
the  water  is  clear  it  is  easy  for  the  experienced 
eye  of  the  watchman  to  see  when  the  fish  enter  the 
net.  He  then  pulls  the  string  and  the  finny  fel- 
lows are  entrapped.  These  platforms,  or  watch- 
towers,  are  seen  on  the  upper  Bosphorus  as  well 
as  here.  They  are  called  "Talliens."  This  is  a 
corruption  of  the  word  "  Italians,"  as  that  race 
were  the  first  fishermen  here  to  use  this  peculiar 
tower  of  observation. 

We  often  fish  in  another  mode,  in  company  with 
these  Zebedees.  When  the  caique  is  sufficiently 
far  out  from  shore,  they  throw  out  one  end  of  the 
net,  this  end  being  buoyed  up  by  a  cork  or  gourd; 
and  then,  after  the  boat  has  described  a  circle,  they 
throw  quantities  of  stones  into  the  water  within 
it, — stones  which  they  always  carry  in  the  boat  for 
this  purpose.  These  startle  the  fish  from  their 
quiet  depths,  and  drive  them  swimming  hither  and 
thither,  and  thus  they  are  more  than  likely  to  be 
ensnared.  Fish,  like  our  milk,  meats  and  vege- 
tables, are  brought  to  our  door,  and  are  less  costly 
than  in  America. 

From  the  fishermen  of  Judea  the  world  has 
learned  much.  The  Greek  fishers  who  convey 
us  about  these  isles  are  not  picturesque,  nor  statu- 
esque, but  they  are  Hellenic  in  many  ways,  and 


54 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


chiefly  in  their  worship  of  the  waters.  As  they  sit 
on  the  sandy  beaches  carolling  their  weird  songs 
and  mending  their  nets,  they  bring  to  memory  the 
apostolic  employment.  They  are  both  classic 
and  biblical. 

What  boatmen,  what  fishermen,  what  male 
nereides  these  Greeks  are  !  How  deftly  they  ply 
the  oar  !  how  neatly  they  untie  a  string  or  fix  a 
hook !  with  what  taste  they  arrange  the  fish  when 
caught !  For  example  :  "  I  go  afishing  "  with  old 
Nicholi  on  the  east  side  of  the  island  ;  we  catch 
about  fifty  of  all  kinds,  including  some  rouget. 
These  rougets  are  dainties  fit  for  Lucullus.  They 
are  worth,  in  the  parlance  here,  twenty-five  piasters 
per  ok.  A  piaster  is  nearly  five  cents  and  an  ok 
between  two  and  three  pounds.  In  arranging  them 
in  the  basket,  Nicholi  turns  up  their  heads  and  lays 
out  their  tails,  so  as  to  make  gold  and  silver  radii. 
The  big  shiny  fish  are  the  centre,  they  form  the 
hub.  Then  with  a  stick  he  strips  the  scales  from 
the  rouget.  The  rouget  immediately  blushes  a 
rich  crimson,  at  the  indignity  of  this  disrobing. 
Then  he  arranges  the  colors  so  as  to  make  every 
other  spoke  in  the  radiant  "  mess  "  fiery  with  the 
red  hue.  Is  this  the  result  of  that  inborn  love  for 
the  beautiful  which  is  Grecian  ? 

When  the  army  of  Xenophon  on  its  famous  re- 
treat reached  these  very  waters,  their  inborn  love 
of  Neptune's  element  burst  forth  in  shouts  of  joy 


THE  TWO  XENOPHONS.  ^ 

-"  Thalassa  !  Thalassa  !  "—The  sea  !  The  sea  !  I 
get  this  not  from  Xenophon  my  gardener,  but  from 
old  Anabasis  himself,  who  reposes  on  the  shelf  of 
the  library. 

The  Greeks  still  love  the  sea.  Not  to  speak  of 
pirates  who  used  to  infest  the  archipelago,  one 
need  only  look  at  the  inimitable  big  sailing  ships 
which  plough  toward  the  Euxine,  after  their  own 
peculiar  golden  fleece, — which  is  horned  cattle  and 
grain  from  Russia, — to  appreciate  their  spirit  of 
marine  adventure.  With  their  isles  and  coast  lines 
how  could  they  do  otherwise  than  love  the  water  ? 

They  had  fountains  which  were  sacred  to  their 
genii.  Was  not  Arethusa  the  nymph  who,  when 
chased  by  her  lover,  turned  into  a  fountain  ? 
Diana  changed  her,  chaste  goddess  that  she  was ! 
Water  was  ever  sacred  to  her.  It  is  the  emblem 
of  purity  in  the  East.  The  rivers  of  the  earth  are 
the  children  of  Oceanus  and  his  sister,  besides 
having  three  thousand  oceanides — little  ones  of 
the  sea.  Mauray  must  have  descended  from  the 
Greeks  of  Maronia,  to  have  discerned  the  thou- 
sand streams  and  currents  in  the  bosom  of  the  deep. 
When  Peleus  would  dedicate  a  lock  of  Achilles' 
hair,  he  bore  it  to  the  river  Sporcheios.  Peleus 
was  a  relative  of  Neptune  and  the  father  of  the 
irascible  hero  of  Homer.  The  Pulians  sacrificed  a 
bull  to  Alpheios,  which  was  a  river  of  Peloponnesus. 
It  had  a  knack  of  running  under  ground,  very 


tj  6  TflE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

near  the  scenes  of  classic  Olympus.  It  excited 
mystery  and  devotion.  Spenser,  in  his  "  Faerie 
Queen,"  makes  some  rare  stanzas  about  a  congre- 
gation of  the  rivers  of  Britain.  He  copies  the  pict- 
ure from  Themis,  the  goddess  of  law  and  justice— 
the  first  personification  of  a  virtue — who  summoned 
the  streams  of  Greece  to  a  great  Olympian  Legis- 
lature— I  suppose,  for  improvement  and  appropri- 
ations. Oceanus  and  the  fountains  were  regarded 
as  divinities.  How  much  the  people  of  a  dry 
land  like  Greece  must  have  appreciated  streams ! 
Mr.  Gladstone  in  his  "Juventus  Mundi,"  regarded 
this  water  worship  of  the  Greek  as  coming  from  a 
different  race;  but  Sir  John  Lubbock,  who  is  bet- 
ter authority  on  this  point  than  Gladstone,  says 
that  this  water  worship  was  only  an  earlier  stage 
of  the  development  of  Grecian  mythology. 

The  question  is  likely  to  occur  to  the  reader  : 
"  How  do  you  get  along  with  your  household 
and  neighbors  as  to  language  ?  Do  you  speak 
ancient  Greek,  and  will  that  answer  for  modern 
uses  ?" 

Let  me  rise  to  a  personal  explanation.  Mr. 
Speaker  ! — Ah  !  Oh  !  I  beg  pardon, — Ladies  and 
gentlemen  : — 

There  are  two  kinds  of  language  spoken  by  the 
modern  Greek.  One  is  called  the  Nooheknia. 
It  is  the  regeneration  of  the  ancient  language,  and 
is  said  to  be  the  more  classical  and  elegant  of  the 


MODERN  AND  ANCIENT  GREEK.  ^ 

two.  It  is  called  " regenerated"  because  it  differs 
from  the  other — Romaic.  The  regeneration  of 
this  language  is  supposed,  in  part,  to  be  the  elim- 
ination of  all  Turkish  words  and  phrases.  As  a 
vehicle  of  thought  it  is  growing  rapidly  ;  but  it  is 
very  unlike  the  ancient  Greek,  except  in  its  printed 
form.  It  is  more  or  less  tinctured  with  the  French 
in  .its  modes  of  expression.  Hearing  it  spoken  in 
the  theatre  at  Constantinople,  I  have  been  struck 
with  its  vivacious  turns  of  expression.  That  it 
is  capable  of  great  eloquence,  tenderness  and 
music  I  do  not  doubt.  In  the  provinces  where 
Greek  is  spoken  it  is  said  to  be  very  difficult  for 
the  peasants  to  understand  a  Greek  newspaper; 
while  in  Athens  among  the  dlite,  the  most 
ordinary  word  familiar  to  the  provinces  is  unintel- 
ligible. It  is  said  by  one  who  is  conversant  with 
these  dialects  that  the  younger  Athenians  of  to- 
day would  have  greater  difficulty  in  communi- 
cating with  the  Greek  peasants  or  fishermen  in 
Turkey,  or  even  in  Greece,  than  with  foreigners 
possessing  a  superficial  knowledge  acquired  in  the 
mountain  districts. 

Judging  by  certain  plays  which  I  have  seen  per- 
formed in  the  modern  Greek  language,  I  think 
the  sense  of  pathos  is  more  predominant  in  that 
language  than  humor,  although  there  is  a  close 
alliance  between  the  two.  As  one  not  unobserv- 
ant of  humor,  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  that  the 


^g  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Greek  has  it,  but  not  in  the  refinement,  which  is 
one  of  the  last  or  highest  reaches  of  civilization. 
The  Greeks  are  not  wanting  in  broad  fun.  There 
is  much  amusement  in  their  ballads.  They  have 
a  quickness  or  vivacity  somewhat  like  the  French 
or  Irish,  which  is  the  spirit  of  witty  retort ;  but  of 
that  kind  of  humor  or  wit  which  sees  the  incon- 
gruity of  things  there  is  not  much  trace  in  their 
nature.  This  may  be  accounted  for  by  the  condi- 
tion of  the  people,  living  as  they  do  in  a  state  of 
insecurity,  and  their  experiences  tending  toward 
the  lugubrious.  And  yet,  like  the  Irish,  the  Greeks, 
with  all  their  disappointments  and  oppressions,  are 
not  wanting  in  a  sense  of  that  liveliness  which  is 
the  source  as  well  of  poetry  as  of  humor.  Their 
every-day  language  bears  the  same  relation  to  the 
written  modern  Greek  language  as  the  Saxon  did 
to  the  Norman,  or  the  Turkish  to  the  Arabic.  As 
for  understanding  the  special  Greek/tftoV  of  these 
isles,  we  do  not  dare  to  begin  its  study.  A  few 
words  of  daily  use  at  the  table  or  about  the  house 
are  all  that  we  need,  as  our  own  servants, 
Pedro,  the  Dalmatian  Slav,  and  Marie,  the  Arme- 
nian maid,  both  speak  the  modern  Greek  in  its 
simplicity,  as  well  as  the  Turkish  language. 

Who  and  what  are  our  neighbors  ?  They  live 
along  the  road  and  up  the  mountain  side.  They 
too  are  Greeks.  All  make  courtesy  to  us.  From 
the  day  we  enter  our  green-grilled  gate  to  the  pres- 


LOCAL  COUR TES Y  IN  GREE TINGS.  c g 

ent  writing,  there  is  the  uniform  bow  and  salutation, 
"  Kale  mare  !  "  Good  day  !  or  "  Kale  spero  !  "  Good 
evening  !  It  is  pleasant  to  receive  salutation  from 
the  children.  It  puts  one's  politeness  to  its  best 
vigilance,  as  the  children  are  plentiful.  Our  three 
nearest  households  have  between  them — eighteen  ! 
Had  I  come  to  Prinkipo  when  younger,  say 
three  decades  ago,  nothing  but  my  sex  could  have 
stopped  my  maternal  instincts.  The  isle  is  cele- 
brated in  that  respect.  These  little  Greeks  bear 
grand  classic  names.  Let  them  be  perpetuated. 
Some  few  have  ecclesiastical  names,  but  the  classics 
are  in  the  majority.  If  I  had  to  canvass  Prinkipo 
for  Congress,  I  would  first  cultivate  the  classics, 
then  orthodoxy.  For  every  Michael  there  are  two 
Herodotuses ;  for  every  Antonio,  two  Lycurguses  ; 
for  every  Nicholas,  two  Pisistratuses.  The  Marys 
are  plentiful,  but  the  Helens  are  more  so. 
The  equivocal  reputation  of  Aspasia  has  not  pre- 
vented many  namesakes.  Our  femme  de  chambre 
is  called  Theano !  One  of  the  fishermen  is  called 
Phaon,  from  that  jolly  mariner  or  ferryman  of 
Lesbos,  with  whom  Sappho  fell  in  love  before  she 
fell  into  the  sea.  How  sad  !  Her  love  was  unre- 
quited. Our  gardener  rejoices  in  the  name  Xeno- 
phon.  He  is  neither  historian  nor  philosopher,  and 
he  never  heard  of  Socrates.  In  fact,  he  had  never 
heard  of  his  own  great  namesake.  My  wife  said  to 
him  one  day  :  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  your  an- 


60  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

cestor  Xenophon,  who  was  not  only  a  handsome 
soldier  but  a  great  writer  many  hundred  years 
before  Christ  ?  " 

He  smiles,  ponders  a  little  and  .with  a  slight 
play  of  fancy,  as  if  he  thought  the  madame  were 
humorous,  says :  "  I  know  no  such  man ;  but  I 
know  Xennie,  who  carries  water  to  our  garden." 
And  this  was  the  nickname  for  the  pupil  of  Soc- 
rates, the  historian,  and  soul  of  the  Anabasis  ! 
This  is  the  pet  name  of  the  hero  who  twenty-three 
hundred  years  before,  had  visited  Byzantium,  after 
his  famous  retreat  over  rough  lands  for  fifteen 
months,  making  1155  parasangs.  In  one  thing  our 
gardener  resembles  his  namesake.  He  has  that 
simplicity  of  style  which  was  the  relief  of  my  cal- 
low college  days,  and  an  integrity  of  character 
worthy  of  Socratic  teaching. 

One  does  not  enjoy  his  beef  less  because  his 
butcher  is  called  Pausanius,  or  his  beans  more 
because  his  gardener  is  called  Xenophon.  Nor  do 
we  enjoy  our  ice-cream,  fruits,  music,  or  the  little 
courtesies  of  the  isle  the  less,  because  they  come 
to  us  upon  the  hills  of  Prinkipo  tendered  by  An- 
astasia  and  Euphrosyne  ;  or  depreciate  our  pur- 
chases because  Demetrius  and  Theodosius  stand 
sponsor  for  the  wares  which  they  peddle  along 
the  highways  of  the  isle.  Our  cook  is  named  Kat- 
arina.  Is  it  a  German  name?  No:  it  is  Greek. 
She  has  been  cook  in  the  family  from  whom  we 


ICE-CREAM    PEDDLER. 


GREEK  RELICS. 


rent  for  thirty  years.  They  call  her  Amty,  —  which 
is  modern  Greek,  I  suppose,  for  "  Aunty."  Thus 
our  South  is  reproduced  with  its  nomenclature. 
Of  the  children  who  play  around  our  house  in  the 
alley  above  and  in  the  valley  below,  you  may  read 
their  names  in  the  Odyssey  or  in  Mitford  ;  or,  call 
the  roll  of  the  Amphictyonic  Congress,  and  they 
will  not  be  absent,  like  so  many  of  our  American 
Solons,  when  their  names  are  called. 

While  musing  upon  the  various  names  which 
are  rich  in  classic  and  historic  lore,  I  pick  up  a 
volume  which  is  a  part  of  my  diversion  occasion- 
ally. It  is  that  of  a  literary  tourist,  travelling  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Athens.  He  is  repeating,  of 
course,  some  of  Childe  Harold's  exclamations 
about  "  Fair  Greece  !  "  —  sad  relic  of  departed 
worth,  immortal,  though  no  more  !  when  he  is 
tapped  familiarly  on  the  back  by  a  so-called  son 
of  modern  Athens,  very  likely  a  composite  of  Dal- 
matian, Saracen,  German,  French  and  Italian. 
This  Athenian  speaks  to  him  in  the  vilest  French. 
He  points  out,  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor  of 
the  Piraeus,  the  tomb  of  Themistocles,  saying: 
"  Voila!  the  tomb  of  our  greatest  man!"  The 
tourist  thanks  him,  and  asks  him  for  his  card. 

"  I  am,"  said  he,  «  Miltiades." 

The  tourist  starts  back. 

"  What  !  " 

The  stranger  smiles  a  savage  grin  and  says  : 


62  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

"  At  your  service." 

"Who  are  you?"  I  inquire. 

11 A  laquais  de place"    he  replies. 

"  Is  it  possible  !  the  hero  of  Marathon  so  re- 
duced ! " 

»  Oh !"  says  he,  "  I  knew  them  all." 

" Who— all?"  I  ask. 

"  Those  poor  gentlemen  of  Marathon." 

He  confesses — this  tourist — that  his  dream  of 
Grecian  beauty  and  greatness  is  over  ;  but  that 
is  the  hard  English  way  of  looking  at  the  world. 

The  sports  of  children  are  typical  of  their  lives. 
Even  bankers'  sons  fly  many-colored  kites,  and 
fly  them  skilfully,  as  their  fathers  do  on  the 
bourses  of  Europe.  The  little  urchins  in  our 
vicinity  are  histrionically  inclined — inchoate  Sopho- 
cleses  and  ^Eschyluses.  They  play  house-keeping 
and  horse,  and  occasionally  have  a  Greek  funeral, 
with  priest,  corpse  and  pall-bearers.  They  show 
their  classic  heredity,  for  they  are  running  over 
with  dramatic  mimicry. 

The  other  day  the  children  were  much  excited. 
They  gathered  on  the  hill  side  in  front  of  our 
house,  and  began  to  clear  away  the  pine  needles 
and  cones  to  make  a  smooth  floor  for  a  restaurant, 
or  Diaskalon.  Ropes  were  extended,  upon  which 
hung  from  the  trees  in  colored  papers  the  flags  of 
the  different  nations. 


BLESSING  THE  GRAPE.  5^ 

uWhat  are  they  doing?" — we  inquire  of  our 
domestics. 

"  Oh,  Excellency,  it  is  a  fete  day  among  the 
Orthodox." 

The  children  had  caught  the  contagion.  They 
are  copying  the  caffantes  on  the  mountains, 
whither  to-day  streams  of  pious  Greeks  are 
wending. 

"Why  this  fete?"  we  ask. 

"  Excellency,  it  is  the  beginning  of  the  grape 
season." 

The  people  of  the  isle  gather  at  the  monastery 
and  church  of  Christos,  above,  where  the  good 
Papa  has  baskets  of  the  succulent  vintage,  in  rich 
golden  and  purple  clusters.  These  are  blessed, 
and  each  person  comes  up  to  the  altar  and  re- 
ceives one  of  the  blessed  bunches. 

Is  this  one  of  the  Pagan  rites  which  the  ortho- 
dox Greek  covers  with  a  thin  veneering  of  Chris- 
tianity ?  If  so,  is  it  so  very  bad  to  be  a  little 
Paganistic  ?  Indeed,  it  savors  of  the  "  first  good 
and  first  fair,"  and  deserves  to  be  celebrated ;  as 
much  so  as  our  Thanksgiving,  with  its  turkey  roast 
and  pumpkin  rites. 

Between  our  point  of  view  at  the  villa  and  the  sea, 
there  is  nothing  to  interrupt  the  vision.  We  over- 
look the  eastern  end  of  the  elder  village  by  the 
shore.  Immediately  on  the  east  is  a  Swiss  valley. 
It  is  Swiss  in  its  depth  and  picturesqueness.  In 


64  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

its'  hollow  are  a  few  cottages,  and  on  its  sides  some 
villas.  This  vale  is  a  mile  long,  and  runs  up 
to  the  middle  depression  of  the  island.  It  is 
covered  by  a  vineyard,  interspersed  with  fig-trees 
now  bearing  fruit;  and  rich  in  their  large  fresh 
green  leaves.  Olive  trees  here  and  there  silver 
the  scene,  and  mingle  with  the  few  stately 
cypresses,  once  marking  tombs  which  are  now  lost 
in  the  cultivation  and  changes  of  the  soil. 

Out  of  this  valley  there  comes  tripping  a  little 
fairy  of  the  vineyard  and  fig-tree.  She  is  singing 
a  song  whose  evanescent  music,  with  its  quavers 
and  turns,  none  but  a  Greek  girl  can  master. 
Her  mother  is  a  donkey  proprietress,  and  she 
allows  her  pet  to  salute  our  flag  and  its  interterri- 
toriality  with  her  favorite  roundelay. 

This  little  one  is  my  nearest  neighbor. 
When  I  walk  up  through  the  groves  and  take  my 
place,  with  a  book,  upon  the  circular  stone  seat 
under  the  umbrage  of  the  pine  trees,  "  midway  up 
the  mount,"  I  hear  her  voice  from  the  valley 
gradually  nearing,  until  that  voice  becomes  em- 
bodied, as  she  stands  half  panting  with  her  race  up 
the  acclivity,  yet  trilling  her  "  Pipini "  roundelay  ! 
I  insert  a  translation  and  notation  of  this  popular 
song  and  its  melody  ;  *  but  the  donkey  queen  will 
not  allow  me  to  transport  to  a  New  Atlantis  her 
little  Prinkipo  princess. 

*  See  pages  66  and  67. 


GREEK  FOLK  LORE. 


It  is  very  touching  to  see  how,  from  lip  to  lip, 
simple  verses  like  these  will  awaken  a  whole  pop- 
ulation to  the  influences  of  music  in  its  quick  anfl 
vivacious  expression.  With  the  simplicity  of  a 
primeval  ballad,  the  "  Mother  Goose  "  melody  con- 
quers all  tongues  and  hearts. 

Another  of  these  peculiar  melodies  or  poems  re- 
minds me  of  the  ballads  which  are  sung  in  the 
nursery.  I  cannot  translate  it,  for  I  do  not  under- 
stand the  original. 

The  burden  of  the  song  is  about  an  old  man 
who  keeps  a  cock,  which  wakes  the  lonely  old  man. 
A  fox  comes  by  and  wakes  the  cock  which  waked 
the  lonely  old  man.  Then  a  dog  comes  along;  it 
killed  the  fox  that  ate  the  cock  that  crowed  and 
waked  the  lonely  old  man.  And  so  on,  until  the 
log  falls  down  and  kills  the  dog,  and  the  furnace 
burns  the  log,  and  a  river  quenches  the  furnace, 
and  an  ox  drinks  up  the  river,  and  a  wolf  eats  the 
ox,  and  a  shepherd  kills  the  wolf,  and  at  last  the 
plague  carries  off  the  shepherd  who  killed  the  wolf, 
that  ate  the  ox,  that  drank  up  the  river,  that 
quenched  the  furnace,  that  burned  the  log,  that 
killed  the  dog,  that  ate  the  fox,  that  ate  the  cock, 
that  crowed  and  waked  the  lonely  old  man  ! 
Something  after  this  manner  is  not  unfamiliar 
to  the  little  ones  of  all  lands. 

There  is  a  folk  lore  among  the  Greek  peasantry, 

which  has  its  moralities,  and  this  is  assimilated  in 

s 


66  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

THE   BIRD   SONG. 
ct  T6  native." 

The  little  bird  that  I  loved,  that  I  still  adore- 
Little  birdie,  my  darling ; 
For  thee,  birdie,  I'm  sighing. 

The  little  dear  bird  has  fled  and  will  return  no  more 
Come  back,  birdie,  my  darling, 
Oh !  where  are  you  flying  ? 


Oh !  cruel  birdie  !  Oh  !  come  back,  before  it  is  too  late. 

Little  birdie,  my  dear  ; 

My  prayer  won't  you  hear? 
Return,  my  pretty  bird,  to  me,  seek  not  a  better  fate  ; 

Come  back,  birdie,  my  dear, 

For  thy  fate  I  fear ! 


You  have,  birdie,  my  heart ;  it  has  for  long  been  thine, 
Birdie,  my  heart  you  carry: 
To  come  back,  oh  !  do  not  tarry. 

Return  me,  birdie,  thine    heart   and  come  to  nestle  in 

mine. 

Come  back,  birdie,  come  back,  darling, 
For  thee,  birdie,  I'm  sighing. 


THE  BIRD  SONG. 
tc  To  77flriw." 


m 


:tfc=J=t* 


=Ef 


.pr  ..  r  ff — F^*-  ~— (*    -.  ~f  ~<*>~~n~'i*  y — \~f  i*     ^ — P — g 


67 


68  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

\ 

many  ways  with  that  of  the  Orient.  Of  course  it 
is  more  or  less  influenced  by  magic,  and  hence  it  is 
Persian,  or  Arabic.  It  has  in  it  a  whole  circus  of 
interjected  horses,  and  bevies  of  maidens  in  wilder- 
nesses or  in  shipwrecks.  It  is  full  of  wicked  sub- 
ject matters,  but  everywhere  it  is  replete  with 
the  marvellous.  The  myths  of  ancient  Greece 
or  the  Sagas  of  Norseland  are  not  more  pene- 
trated with  the  supernatural  than  are  the  bal- 
lads and  fables  in  the  modern  Greek  language. 
Many  of  these  fables  and  stories  are  the  same 
which  we  hear  repeated  in  our  own  tongue.  They 
are,  in  other  forms,  the  substance  of  Uncle  Remus' 
stories  of  the  fauna  of  our  own  woods ;  and  these 
stories  have  an  Oriental  flavor,  which  came  to  the 
original  Guinea  or  Congo  slave  when  the  religion 
of  Mahomet  spread  through  the  Dark  Continent 
to  these  unhappy  exiles  of  our  ante-revolutionary 
years. 


CHAPTER   V. 

PRINKIPO ITS    GARDENS    AND    VILLAS. 

How  is  the  island  watered  ?     For  so  fruitful  a 
spot,  it  must  have  water.     There    is  some  dew, 
and  that  refreshes  the  vines,  which  are  in  great 
abundance.     The   vine    does    not    seem   to    need 
showers,  for  in  summer  there  are  none  worth  not- 
ing.    Wells  of  water  are  dug,  and  the  Egyptian 
mode  of  pumping  by  ox,  horse  or  man  power  is 
resorted  to  in  the  best  places.     On  the  east  and 
west    sides,    where    the    isle    is    lowest    and    the 
gardens  of  melons  and  vegetables  are  many,  the 
water  is  drawn  by  hand.     We  start  with  full  cis- 
terns, but  these  do  not  hold  out  long,  and  we  are 
soon  obliged  to  join  the    numberless   households 
around  us  who  live  by  this  locomotive  irrigation. 
Twice  a  day  the  picturesque  scene  presents  itself 
at   our   garden   gate — Antonius  and  his  four  pet 
donkey  companions,  with  their  surroundings  and 
not  unmusical  voices.     The  gold-fishes  must  live 
.in  the  fountain  and  the  flowers  must  flourish  on 
the  terraces.     Ergo,  the  cistern  and  fountain  must 
be  supplied.     And  Xenophon,  like  his  great  name- 
sake, must  work  on   a  great  scale,  and  so,  with 

69 


JQ  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

lavish  hand  he  distributes  to  his  cherished  wards 
that  which  costs  him  nothing  and  which  gives  them 
beauty  and  fragrance. 

But  where  are  the  beautiful  lawns  of  other 
lands  ?  Where  the  fresh  green  grass  to  cool  the 
hot  air  and  relieve  the  eye  ?  These  are  not.  The 
grass  will  not  grow  at  all  on  this  island.  Under 
the  pine  trees  the  needles  are  so  thickly  strewn 
that  they  pave  the  ground  and  make  the  walks 
quite  slippery.  The  shrubbery  is  of  a  larger  vari- 
ety than  elsewhere.  It  reminds  me  of  the  fragrant 
machieoi  Corsica,  of  which  Napoleon  said,  that  he 
<(  could  shut  his  eyes  and  smell  it,"  when  he  was  a 
prisoner  in  far  off  St.  Helena.  Nearly  all  of  the 
islands  are  covered  by  this  shrubbery,  where  the 
trees  and  rocks  permit.  It  is  a  sort  of  heather. 
I  see  the  women  and  men  folk  gathering  it  for 
"yarbes,"  as  its  roots  are  medicinal. 

There  is  a  quasi  grass  grown  here,  perhaps  quite 
as  pretty  as  our  grass.  It  is  called  Lepia. 
Whether  this  is  the  right  spelling  or  not,  I  do  not 
know.  Whether  it  be  derived  from  lepits,  a  hare, 
which  feeds  on  it ;  or  lepas,  a  shell-fish  ;  or  lepidics, 
pleasant — it  makes  no  difference,  so  long  as 
it  makes  a  pleasant  lawn,  whether  for  rabbit  or 
barnacle.  It  is  very  petite  and  delicate,  and  of  a 
pinkish  white  in  color.  Upon  its  tiny  petals 
the  bees  and  other  honey-suckers  buzz  all  day 
long.  Butterflies  of  gorgeous  hues  and  large  size 


WATER-CARRIERS. 


A  FAMOUS  EPICAL  GARDEN.  ^ 

vie  with  the  tiny  humming-birds  of  purple  tint 
which  invade  our  garden.  This  quasi  grass  can 
be  shaven,  and  then  it  makes  a  pleasant  lawn,  but 
in  so  doing  the  little  fragrant  flower  must  fall  with 
the  gardener's  knife  for  awhile,  until  the  new  blos- 
soms come  again.  It  forms  a  very  attractive 
addition  to  the  parterres  of  these  island  homes. 

Our  villa  is  a  miniature  compared  with  the  su- 
perb villas  which  line  the  lofty  terraces  by  the  sea- 
shore, and  within  whose  enclosures  the  tamarind, 
magnolia  and  oleander  flourish.  The  best  houses 
are  roofed  with  red  tiles.  They  are  gay  with  ve- 
randas and  covered  with  creepers.  They  are  either 
pink,  white  or  yellow  with  fresh  paint.  Every- 
where embowered,  they  make  pictures  worthy  of 
the  Greek  gardens  of  Antinous. 

It  is  neither  pedantry  nor  exaggeration  to  com- 
pare these  island  villas  to  the  classic  garden  of 
Homer's  Alcinous  in  the  Phseacian  Isle  (Corfu), 
where  that  "much  experienced,"  wise  old  man, 
Ulysses,  was  harbored  for  a  season.  To  be  prosy, 
let  me  make  an  inventory  of  that  famous  epical 
garden  :  It  has  four  acres , edged  with  green,  and 
tall  trees,  cypresses,  we  suppose.  There  are  red- 
dening apples,  ripening  to  gold ;  blue,  luscious 
figs  ;  red  pomegranates  ;  heavy  pears,  and  perenni- 
ally verdant  olives.  Whenever  one  fruit  drops, 
another  takes  its  place.  The  seasons  are  so  mild 
that  blooms,  buds  and  fruit  appear  together.  The 


72  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

vines  are  ranked  in  order,  some  fit  to  pluck,  some 
to  make  raisins,  and  some  for  wine.  While  some 
are  in  flower,  others  are  in  grape.  Some  are  just 
coloring  and  some  are  purple  with  autumn.  Beds 
of  herbs  are  ever  green.  Fountains  shake  their 
silver  in  the  sun.  Streams  abound  as  visitors  to 
the  roots  of  the  plants,  and  pipes  with  water  con- 
nect with  palace  and  city. 

All  this,  and  more,  is  here,  with  proper  hydro- 
statics and  irrigation,  in  the  palatial  gardens  of 
Prinkipo.  There  are  windmills,  colored  like  Iris, 
perpetually  pumping,  with  a  grateful  sea  breeze  as 
the  motor.  The  breeze  is  a  good  worker  and  sel- 
dom "  strikes,"  except  for  a  few  summer  days. 
Attached  to  house,  stable  and  office  are  mystic 
lines  for  telegraph  and  telephone,  which  deep. 
browed  Homer  never  vouchsafed  to  his  heroes  or 
gods,  with  all  their  lording  over  lightning  and 
thundering  oratory  from  Olympus. 

There  is  one  house  here  upon  the  island  which 
has  on  the  outside,  what  most  mansions  have 
within,  viz.  :  exquisite  colored  tiles.  This  is  very 
unique.  Its  doors,  porticoes  and  windows  are 
richly  gilded  and  gracefully  carved.  It  is  but  a 
cottage,  but  it  ever  excites  comment  and  admira- 
tion, followed  by  the  exclamation  :  "Why  does  an 
old  bachelor  keep  so  much  of  beauty  to  himself, 
instead  of  sharing  it  with  a  wife  ?  " 

Many  years  ago  this  isle  was  thickly  peopled. 


AN  ENTERPRISING  MALTESE.  ^ 

The  people  disappeared  and  the  isle  became  a 
waste,  remaining  thus  until  only  a  few  short  years 
ago.  It  was  a  mountain  of  pine  trees  in  a  land 
denuded  of  other  vegetation.  Like  all  such  places, 
it  had  to  have  a  pioneer.  Out  of  his  enterprise, 
within  a  half  century,  Prinkipo  has  become  a 
second  garden  of  Eden.  His  name  will  be  per- 
petuated, for  the  first  hotel  of  the  island  is  named 
after  him,  though  it  is  located  back  and  above  that 
of  Signora  Calypso,  of  the  Homeric  epic.  Signer 
Giacomo  started  early  here.  He  kept  goats  and 
loved  America.  He  was  a  Maltese.  That  means 
that  he  was  more  or  less  of  a  mixed  race.  Doubt- 
less he  was  mostly  Italian.  He  was  a  devout  Cath- 
olic. He  came  to  these  waters  of  the  East  a  little 
ragged,  sailor  imp.  He  was  employed  at  a  store 
in  Galata.  There  is  a  Maltese  street  there  yet, 
and  through  its  fragrant  purlieu  I  often  ride,  but 
seldom  walk.  I  hurriedly  go  through  this  rueful 
rue,  where  Limburger  cheese  exchanges  its  odor 
with  herring,  and  onions  help  assafcetida  to  dilate 
the  nostril,  ad  unco  naso. 

After  Giacomo's  successes  at  Galata,  he  came 
here  and  constructed  houses  around  his  own 
larger  house,  and  upon  terraced  plateaux  that  rose 
in  loveliness  to  the  mountain  top.  He  decorated 
his  terraces  with  a  profusion  of  his  favorite  white 
roses,  whose  fragrance  was  wafted  far  out  at  sea ; 
thus  in  some  manner,  as  it  were,  compensating  in 


-4  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

his  opulent  days  for  the  infragrance  of  his  work  in 
the  time  of  youthful  poverty.  What  forty  years 
ago  was  "  Giacomo's  Delight "  is  now  no  more. 
It  is  gone  ;  but  the  Giacomo  Hotel  with  its  pretty 
terraces  survives.  It  overlooks  its  rival,  "  The  Ca- 
lypso : "  so,  when  Greek  meets  Maltese  there  is 
a  tug.  Giacomo  had  a  wife.  She  loved  him  and 
music  passing  well ;  but  the  island  or  her  talent 
did  not  furnish  as  much  music  as  her  husband  did 
diamonds  for  her  adornment.  So  she  bought  a 
barrel  organ,  and  turned  the  handle.  Handel 
would  have  turned  in  his  tomb  if  he  had  heard  it. 
The  husband  cultivated  plants  and  statues.  She 
looked  after  the  barrel  organ  and  ironing.  When 
he  came  home  and  hung  up  his  broad-brimmed 
hat  over  a  plaster  cast  of  Diana,  she  quit  her  laun- 
dry and  took  to  Handel.  He,  Giacomo,  had  a 
gun.  Quails  filled  his  larder,  and  the  gun  seldom 
hung  at  rest  near  the  statue  of  the  divine  hunt- 
ress. With  due  regard  for  the  religious  cultiva- 
tion of  his  own  household  and  his  neighbors'  he 
caused  a  church  to  be  built.  He  made  a  very 
happy  speech  in  its  honor  on  the  opening  of  its 
doors  to  the  Catholic  community.  It  was  the  first 
Catholic  church  on  this  isle. 

As  I  pass  the  hotel  bearing  his  name,  I  take  off 
my  hat.  Why  not  ?  Giacomo  loved  America.  I 
wander  over  the  terraces,  among  the  umbrageous, 
gravelled  walks  so  cleanly  kept.  I  receive  the 


THE  HOME  OF  CALYPSO.  ^ 

greetings  of  mine  host  of  "  The  Giacomo,"  who 
proves  to  be  a  brother  of  mine  host  of  the  "  Hotel 
Royal,"  our  winter  home  at  Constantinople.  He 
bears  the  Greek  patronym  of  Logothetti — or 
"  word  bearer." 

Everywhere  upon  these  isles  we  are  reminded 
of  our  classics,  and  of  Homer  especially.  "Ca- 
lypso "  carries  us  back  not  merely  to  our  college 
days,  but  four  thousand  years. 

There  has  been  much  discussion  between  geog- 
raphers and  other  learned  men,  as  to  which  one 
of  the  Grecian  islands  was  inhabited  by  Calypso. 
Some  have  supposed  the  Island  of  Fano  was  the 
fateful  isle.  This  has  been  denied  strenuously, 
for  it  is  admitted  that  there  is  nothing  very  attrac- 
tive about  that  rocky  island.  An  American  in 
passing  by  it,  called  it  a  "  darned  spot,  only  good 
for  sharpening  a  slate  pencil."  Still  the  classic 
books  generally  regard  Fano  as  the  old  Ogygia. 
The  argument  to  prove  that  this  unpronounceable 
and  unmusical  Greek  island  was  that  of  the  allur- 
ing Calypso,  is  its  position.  It  lies  between  the 
south  of  Italy  and  Corfu,  in  the  middle  of  the 
channel  which  leads  into  the  Adriatic.  Another 
argument,  quite  weak,  however,  is  the  fact  that 
Ulysses  took  twenty-one  days  to  get  from  Ogygia 
to  Corfu.  To  know  whether  this  was  or  was  not 
good  sailing,  one  should  make  inquiry  as  to  the 
kind  of  vessel  he  sailed  in,  and  the  kind  of  weather 


76  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

he  had.  According  to  Homer,  Ggygia,  where 
resided  the  beautiful-haired  goddess,  was  supposed 
to  be  \henombril  of  the  sea,  dp.pa.Xbs  QojAoor^  just  as 
Delphi  was  called  by  the  Greeks  the  navel  of  the 
earth.  Calypso,  as  we  know,  was  the  daughter  of 
Oceanus  ;  and  Oceanus  was  a  river-god,  and  ac- 
cording to  a  correct  knowledge  of  our  rotund  star, 
whose  roundness  Herodotus  laughed  at,  the  river 
was  supposed  to  flow  swiftly  around  the  earth. 
One  thing,  however,  is  proven  by  a  learned  pun- 
dit, and  that  is  that  this  island  of  Calypso  occu- 
pied a  prominent  position  between  Cadiz  and 
Troy.  This  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  the  town 
of  Kalamazoo  is  situated  somewhere  between  San 
Francisco  and  Boston.  Pliny  has  something  to 
say  about  this  remarkable  island.  He  asserts  that 
it  was  not  far  from  Cape  Colonna,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Gulf  of  Tarento.  There  is  nothing  against 
this  learned  supposition,  except  that  no  such  island 
can  now  be  found  on  the  charts.  However,  it  is 
not  unusual  in  the  Mediterranean  for  an  island 
to  pop  up  in  the  day,  and  pop  under  over  night. 
In  fact,  the  island  may  be  nothing  but  a  myth  ; 
but  the  myths  of  Homer,  to  one  who  lives  upon  a 
Grecian  island,  become  so  real  that  we  forget  they 
are  mythological.  Here,  we  regard  his  heroes, 
divinities  and  localities  as  real  personages  and 
solid  facts.  Especially  are  they  so  regarded  when 


SUMMER  KIOSKS.  ^ 

such  a  substantial  and  festive  modern  Greek  tav- 
ern is  called  "  The  Calypso." 

The  gardens  around  many  of  the  more  splendid 
edifices  of  Prinkipo  extend  down  to  the  grotesque 
rocks  on  the  shore,  upon  which  hang,  in  quaint  style, 
summer  kiosks,  or  bath  houses.  Nearly  all  the  ele- 
gant houses  have  in  the  corners  of  their  grounds 
summer  houses,  where  in  the  evening  or  after 
dinner  the  family  gathers  and  visitors  are  wel- 
comed, and  where  tea  and  coffee  are  served. 

At  the  scala,  or  on  the  verandas,  or  in  these 
kiosks,  you  may  observe  the  consummate  charms 
of  this  isle.  Murray,  in  his  hand-book,  says  of 
Prinkipo  :  "  The  air  is  mild  and  healthy,  and  the 
heat  in  summer  by  no  means  so  oppressive  as  at 
Constantinople ;  and  the  women  are  said  to  be  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world." 

This  last  sentence  shall  be  the  text  of  a  chapter 
by  itself,  dedicated  to  the  beauties  of  the  isle. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PRINKIPO NO  RUNNING  WATER STRANGE    NOISES— 

THE    VOCIFEROUS    DONKEY THE    BIRDS. 

THE  traveller  to  the  Arctics  notes  the  glory  of 
the  aurora  borealis,  the  stupendous  glaciers,  the 
superb  fiords,  and  sublime  mountains  ;  but  he 
notes  also  the  absence  of  running  water.  With- 
out this  element  of  beauty,  no  landscape,  however 
grand,  is  perfect.  Even  in  the  upper  Alps,  where 
the  tintinnabulation  of  the  sheep-bells  is  faint,  and 
the  torrents  give  only  a  murmur  from  below,  the 
eye  tires  of  the  frozen  rigidity  of  all  within  its 
range.  Here,  on  these  isles,  there  is  this  draw- 
back ;  yet  running  water  is  not  missed  so  much, 
as  nature  supplies  so  many  other  beauties.  No 
brooklet  here  sings  between  osiers  and  alders ;  no 
mountain  stream  bounds  between  crags  and  over 
boulders,  making  motion  and  music. 

Along  the  mountain  sides  we  perceive  long 
lines  and  piles  of  broken  stones.  What  are  they  ? 
The  debris,  or  moraines,  left  by  torrents  of  a  past 
age  ?  Are  these  the  relics  of  a  once  watery  way, 
or  are  they  the  ground-rubble  of  a  glacial  age  ? 

It  was  some  time  before  my  unscientific  mindre- 

78 


WATERS  OF  CELESTIAL  BLUE.  ^ 

sponded  to  these  queries.  Pedro,  whose  very  name 
signifies  a  rock,  inclined  me  to  the  opinion  that 
they  were  the  once  gathered  yet  now  scattered  re- 
mains of  boundary  walls,  when  Prinkipo  was  in 
the  height  of  her  refinement  and  culture.  What 
have  we  to  do  with  such  puzzles  here  ?  Have  we 
not  the  magic  climate,  the  narrow  girth  which 
confines  the  essential  beauty,  the  atmospheric  tints 
which  color  the  mountain  features,  beautiful  flow- 
ers in  cultivated  gardens,  refreshing  nooks  under 
the  umbrage  of  pine,  olive,  oak  and  fig,  groves 
of  endless  variety,  gray  stones  and  moss-covered 
rocks,  shrubbery  whose  fragrance  sweetens  the 
sense,  and  a  shore  whose  indentations  remind  one 
of  Prospero's  isle,  where  the  lover  may  load  the 
air  with  sighs  in  the  "  odd'  angle  of  the  isle  ?  "  All 
these  we  have ;  but  alas  !  no  running  streams,  no 
tinkling  fountains  with  thin  sheafs  of  prismatic 
silver,  and  no  lakes  and  cascades  to  give  the  isle 
more  melody.  But  we  have  sea  water  of  the  love- 
liest tint — the  celestial  hue  of  blue.  Should  not 
that  of  itself  suffice  ? 

The  ancient  Greeks  made  much  out  of  their 
restricted  water  privileges. 

What  classic,  historic  and  poetic  splendors  sur- 
round the  rivulets  of  Cephissus  and  Ilissus ! 
They  were  monstered  into  wonders.  They  had 
nymphs  and  naiads  innumerable.  The  Missouris 
and  Danubes,  Amazons  and  Rio  Grandes  are  as 


8o  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

nothing  comparable  to  the  Scamander  of  Troy. 
What  will  not  genius  expand  and  fancy  glorify  ! 
If  the  aqueous  sterility  of  Greece  conduced  to  its 
greatness,  what  will  be  said  of  the  aggrandizement 
of  America,  with  its  Ohio,  Hudson  and  Mississippi, 
its  lakes  and  its  gulfs,  its  Atlantic  and  Pacific  ? 

The  voices  of  the  isle  are  numerous.  In  such  a 
secluded  spot,  even  the  hum  of  a  bee  is  noticed. 
When  the  north-west  wind  comes  to  make  its 
streaks  of  shadow  and  its  dimples  of  beauty  on  the 
sea,  the  sighing  thereof  is  soft-noted  ;  and  when 
evening  comes,  and  the  sun  with  a  ruddy,  violet 
haze  makes  charming  silhouettes  out  of  the  nine 
isles  of  the  archipelago,  the  wind  begins  to  play 
on  its  piney  keys,  with  an  autumnal  solemn  sound, 
like  that  of  a  rich-toned  organ.  In  its  pauses  you 
sometimes  hear  the  sonorous  tremolo  of  the  train 
across  the  channel  in  Asia,  as  it  rumbles  along  the 
railroad  between  Hadji-Ali  and  Ismid,  and  sweeps 
the  chords  of  another  age  and  civilization.  In  the 
evening,  as  we  pass  the  venerable  church  of  Chris- 
tos,  we  hear  the  chants  of  the  parish  Emphemerios. 
They  sound  as  if  half  hushed  within  a  sepulchre, 
like  the  service  for  the  dead,  with  its  piteous  Kyrie 
Eleison ;  Christ^  Bodtheson.  Breaking  in  on  the 
solemnity  comes  the  pertinacious,  shrill,  rasping 
monotone  of  the  cicada.  This  insect  is  as  old  as 
Homer.  He  likens  it  to  a  piping  old  man  whose 
voice  is  thinned  by  age.  He  describes  it  as  be- 


THE  ASIATIC  CHANTICLEER.  3r 

longing  to  a  bloodless  race,  which  in  summer  days 
"  rejoice  with  feeble  voice." 

This  insect,  from  the  midst  of  the  isle,  and  by 
the  sounding  shore,  sends  up  its  scrannel  piping 
through  the  pines  of  the  Diaskalon  to  arouse  the 
monks  of  Christos  for  their  matins.  The  very 
roosters  of  old  Asia,  across  the  channel,  respond 
in  greetings  to  the  god  of  day  and  the  isles  of  the 
sea.  These  cocks  act  as  if  they  were  the  chartered 
libertines  of  the  East,  because  nearest  the  auroral 
gate.  Thus  nature  salutes  the  sacred  sun,  as 
through  Heaven's  portals  he  blazes  to  give  the 
cheering  ray  and  golden  day.  This  sentiment  is 
Homeric  ;  but  the  chanticleer  has  become  a  sign 
and  clarion  of  patriotism  ;  for  his  voice  arouses 
our  Dalmatian  serviteur,  who  prepares  to  raise  our 
flag  upon  its  staff  to  continue  the  salute.  Along 
with  the  domestic  flap  of  our  neighbors'  fowls,  I 
can  hear  from  my  open  window  the  patriotic  flap 
of  our  bunting,  as  I  sink  off  again  in  dreams  of 
home. 

This  grasshopper,  alias  locust,  alias  katydid, 
or  alias  cicada,  is  a  sign  of  dry  weather.  In  these 
Greek  isles,  as  in  Cyprus,  Necessity  has  taxed  her 
maternal  solicitude  to  find  some  mode  for  its  de- 
struction. It  spoils  the  crops.  I  do  not  know 
that  it  is  so  destructive  on  these  as  on  other  isl- 
ands, but  it  is  very  numerous,  and  it  must  live 
on  something  green.  Hence,  there  is  much  con- 
6 


g2  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

cern  about  the  cicada.  Judging  by  the  sound,  it 
is  as  dry  as  a  militia  regiment  on  a  muster  day. 
Some  one  —  is  it  Tennyson  ? — generalizes  by  say- 
ing :— 

"  At  eve,  a  dry  cicala  sung." 

Cicala  is  Italian  for  katydid,  grasshopper  or 
cicada.  The  latter  is  the  scientific  term.  Cicala 
philologically  indicates  that  the  bird  wants  a  drink. 
You  can  never  see  the  insect ;  it  is  as  green  as  the 
tree  on  which  it  chirps.  Chirp  ?  Yes  ;  for  it  does 
not  sing.  Its  hemipterous  membranous  transpar- 
ency is  in  a  scrape  on  the  under  side  of  itself,  and 
grates  out  by  friction  a  shrill  monotone,  which  on 
this  island  is  only  equalled  in  its  annoyance  by  the 
unmelodious  bray  of  the  festive  jackass.  Its  fals- 
etto is  relieved  by  snatches  of  sprightly  Greek 
songs,  trilled  in  girlish  glee  by  shoeless  little  Cal- 
liopes, which  rise  in  treblous  hilarity  from  the  cot- 
tages of  the  valley  below. 

At  dawn  we  are  awakened  by  three  peculiar 
sounds.  One  is  the  "  strain  of  strutting  chanti- 
cleer." This  is  Shakespeare's  expression  in  the 
"  Tempest  "  ;  so  that  the  herald  of  the  dawn  be- 
longed to  other  enchanted  isles.  It  is  literally  a 
strain — which  means  an  effort  ;  for  the  firstlings  of 
the  chicken  tribe  try  their  tiny  throats  with  a 
feeble  agony  which  soon  arouses  the  ire  and  ambi- 
tion of  the  elder  cocks.  These  make  the  isle  ring 


MORNING  CALLS  AND  ECHOES.  33 

from,  side  to  side  with  their  clarion  voices ;  and  St. 
George's  Mount  takes  up  the  shrill  crow,  which 
St.  Nicholas  echoes.  Dreams  here  ?  Dreams  in 
the  early  morning  ?  Mayhap  ; — but  not  rosy. 

Another  noise  begins.  At  first  it  is  an  equiv- 
ocal sort  of  bruit.  Is  it  the  distant  thunder  from 
Olympus  ?  Is  it  the  rolling  of  the  Ismid  train 
again  ?  It  starts  afar.  It  approaches  !  It  is — no  ! 
—yes  !  it  is  the  jackass  Diapason  !  "  It  frights  the 
isle  from  its  propriety." 

Be  it  known  that  nearly  all  the  locomotion  of 
these  isles  is  done  by  these  meek  children  of 
misery.  I  am  prepared  to  defend  them  for  their 
patience,  industry  and  docility.  I  am  ready  to  die 
believing  in  their  good  sense,  despite  the  libels 
upon  their  long  ears,  as  significant  of  obtuseness. 
I  have  been  familiar  with  them  at  home  and  abroad 
—in  and  out  of  Congress.  They  are  not  insensi- 
ble to  kindnesses.  They  are  not  donkeys  in  the 
sense  of  dulness.  I  am  in  sympathy  with  Cole- 
ridge's elegy  to  the  ass's  colt.  In  monumental 
Egypt ;  around  thy  walls,  O  Jerusalem ;  and  over 
the  mountains  of  these  princely  isles,  I  have  be- 
come their  confidant  and  familiar.  When  Athana- 
sius,  our  donkey  driver, — long  may  he  be  immor- 
tal ! — brings  from  below  his  white  jackass  arrayed 
in  gold  cloth,  with  blue  beads  on  its  noble  fore- 
head and  around  its  milky  neck — to  keep  off  the 
evil  eye — I  know  that  I  have  a  safe  companion 


84 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES, 


for  the  pleasant  paths  of  the  pine  woods.  But 
there  is  something  too  much  of  this  animal  on  the 
isle,  if  one  would  seek  quiet  rest  in  the  morning. 
When  donkey  parties  meet  on  the  roads,  there  is 
much  recognition  and  confusion.  I  demand  of 
Athan'asius  the  reason  of  this  sonorous  braying. 
He  responds  : 

"  You  ought,  Excellency,  to  hear  them  in  the 
month  of  May,  when  Jack  salutes  his  Jenny,  a 
mile  or  more  distant,  and  when  the  general  jubilee 
of  affection  begins  its  vociferate  attentions ; "  or 
words  to  that  effect. 

After  all,  it  is  their  affectionate  nature  that  must 
speak  out  in  these  inharmonious  numbers.  It  is 
said  that  in  the  isle  of  Crete,  whence  Homer  im- 
ported Stentor  for  his  epic,  the  shepherds,  owing 
to  the  pure  air,  can  be  heard  calling  to  their  flocks 
three  miles  and  more  distant.  The  undulations 
of  the  air  here  furnish  the  same  facility  for  sound. 
The  isle,  by  conformation,  is  a  vast  microphone. 
Nothing  is  lost  in  the  limbo  of  silence. 

When  Monsieur  Chanticleer  has  quit  his  strut- 
ting and  crowing ;  when  Madame  Poulet  has 
finished  clucking  her  morning  "lay;"  when  the 
wind  is  quiescent  and  the  star-spangled  flag  hangs 
limp  by  its  staff,  and  the  cries  of  the  bread  and 
vegetable  mongers  are  stilled — then,  as  if  by  some 
infernal  pre-concert  this  ear-benumbing  noise  of 
the  amorous  and  jocund  jackass  begins  again.  It 


MOR  E  BRA  YING.  g  5 

starts  with  an  exaggerated  case  of.  asthma. 
This  rasps  the  soul.  It  is  as  if  the  beast  would 
lose  and  then  catch  his  bated  breath,  with  a  harsh, 
squeaky  sibilation — until  a  roar,  as  of  forty  hun- 
gry lions  of  the  desert,  comes  to  its  infinite  relief. 
It  would  seem  as  if  all  the  powers  of  wheezy, 
whistling,  gasping  suction  were  exhausted.  And 
so  it  is  ;  but  then  follow  the  terrific  expirations  of 
the  bellowing  monster  !  This  process  of  suction 
and  emission  is  repeated  with  ''damnable  itera- 
tion," until  it  dies  out  in  an  agony  unutterable — 
long  drawn  out.  I  can  recall  in  adolescent  asso- 
ciation with  the  paternal  saw-mill,  agonizing  creak- 
ings  of  ungreased  timber-wheels,  and  the  filing  of 
saws  on  a  frosty  morning.  I  have  had  recent  expe- 
rience of  the  screaming  shadoof,  turned  by  blind 
buffaloes,  pumping  the  Nile  upon  the  fruitful  land. 
In  time  I  became  accustomed  to  these  chromatic 
eccentricities ;  but  no  one,  not  even  the  inhab- 
itants of  these  isles,  can  ever  become  tolerant 
of  this  braying.  When  the  Equus  Prinkipo 
begins,  as  he  does  by  lifting  the  upper  lip 
and  showing  his  white  teeth,  the  driver  takes  pre- 
cautions against  too  prolonged  an  agony.  He 
makes  a  wild  and  desperate  rush  for  Asinus.  He 
beats  and  kicks  him.  He  jerks  his  head  up,  down 
and  awry.  But  still  undaunted,  the  animal  roars 
again  and  again  ;  and  his  congeners  from  the  town 
below  on  the  shore,  yea,  even  afar  off  to  the  Dias- 


86  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

kalon  on  the  summit,  take  up  the  horrid  refrain,  until 
one  would  think  Enceladus  had  walked  out  of  the 
sunless  chambers  of  the  earth  to  bellow  upon  the 
affrighted  air.  Oh !  that  these  donkeys  were 
like  the  lion  indeed, — not  of  natural  history,  but  of 
the  species  Bottom  would  have  played  in  such  an 
"  aggravating  voice "  that  he  would  roar  you  as 
gently  as  any  sucking  dove,  or  any  nightingale. 
Certainly,  Shakespeare,  who  was  fond  of  locating 
his  midsummer  fancies  upon  enchanted  isles,  must 
have  heard  of  these  donkeys  of  Prinkipo,  when 
he  said  :  "  The  isle  is  full  of  noises." 

I  am  not  prepared  to  join  in  the  general  objur- 
gation against  this  animal.  He  has  excellent 
qualities.  It  is  the  duty  of  just  criticism  to  dis- 
criminate and  not  judge  too  harshly.  It  is  said  of 
the  mule  that  he  is  the  meanest  of  brutes.  I 
would  not  be  unjust  to  him  even.  I  admit  that  he 
has  plenty  of  total  depravity  in  his  hind  legs.  I 
further  admit  that  he  is  more  obstinate  than  his 
step-brother ;  but  has  he  not  the  same  evangelical 
expression  of  countenance  ?  As  the  mule  is  only 
half  an  ass,  dispraise  of  him  must  be  discounted  at 
the  beginning  fifty  per  cent.  I  assert  boldly  that 
there  are  good  mules  as  well  as  good  donkeys.  It 
is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  obstinacy 
which  belongs  to  both  animals  is  a  vice.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  a  virtue.  Does  not  this  quality  of 
nature  give  strength  of  character  and  courage  ? 


FAMIL  Y  PRIDE. 


Much  has  been  said  and  written  of  the  pride  of 
birth.  Much  wit  has  been  expended  in  relation 
to  that  pride.  But  it  has  never  been  applied  ex- 
cept in  derision  of  the  donkey.  This  is  unjust. 
Humble  though  his  present  station  may  be,  he  is 
of  an  ancient  family.  Royalty  is  shown  in  the 
thistle  of  his  escutcheon.  He  has  much  more 
reason  to  be  proud  than  the  mule.  He  has  no 
bar  sinister  on  his  shield.  It  may  not  be  generally 
known  that  the  mule  has  an  arrogant  and  offens- 
ive pride,  which  amounts  to  vanity.  The  pride  of 
the  mule  is  in  some  respects  justifiable.  It  is  in- 
herited. It  comes  from  his  maternal  connections. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  of  this  that  the  mule  joins  in 
the  general  objurgation  against  his  father,  the  don- 
key. If  an  ass  is  thrown  with  a  pack  of  mules,  he 
is  sure  to  be  badly  treated,  kicked  and  curled  like 
a  poor  relatiori  ;  while  the  horse  is  treated  with 
the  most  distinguished  consideration.  The  mule 
is  always  anxious  to  be  near  his  equine  relative. 
Those  who  are  accustomed  to  these  animals  will 
verify  this  remarkable  statement.  Yet  with  all  his 
faults  the  mule  is  a  true  patriot ;  he  served  gal- 
lantly in  the  late  war,  and  has  not  applied  for  a 
pension  !  He  took  rank  in  the  quartermaster's  de- 
partment and  became  a  "  brevet  horse." 

The  ass  is  by  no  means  a  stupid  beast ;  he  is 
contemplative.  He  belongs  to  the  tropical  cli- 
mate. The  horse  belongs  to  the  colder  latitude 


gg  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

and  supplies  almost  its  every  emergency.  The 
ass  is  Oriental.  His  progenitor  is  from  Central 
Asia.  He  has  long  served  as  a  domestic  in  its 
regions.  From  there  he  went  down  into  Egypt. 
He  is  the  offspring  of  a  splendid  civilization.  The 
Bible,  which  is  a  Semitic  book,  has  niany  references 
to  him,  both  in  the  satire  in  relation  to  Baalam,  and 
in  the  beautiful  entry  into  Jerusalem.  The  ass  has 
been  exalted  by  the  Arab.  He  came  in  with  the 
Caliphs.  He  shared  their  honors.  My  recollection 
is  precise  that  when  I  was  asked  to  ride  to  the  Pyr- 
amids, or  to  make  a  tour  around  ancient  Thebes, 
the  admiring  and  eloquent  donkey  contractor  never 
failed  to  dignify  the  animal  with  such  names  as 
"  Washington,"  "  Grant,"  and  "Yankee  Doodle." 

The  donkey  of  Egypt  is  quite  an  improvement 
on  all  other  donkeys  that  I  have  observed  in  the 
Eastern  world.  His  breeding  is  of  high  antiquity. 
Great  attention  is  paid  to  his  pedigree  :  as  much 
as  to  that  of  the  horse.  In  that  warm  climate 
there  are  donkey  barbers,  who  clip  his  hair  in 
order  to  prevent  him  from  suffering  from  the 
heat.  When  kept  for  private  use  this  quadru- 
ped is  sometimes  dressed  in  splendid  housings, 
rich  and  gaudy, — having  on  a  high  pad  or  sad- 
dle upon  which  one  may  even  lie  down  in  com- 
fort. This  aristocrat  is  by  no  means  a  sample, 
however,  of  the  ordinary  animal,  even  in  Egypt, 
much  less  of  those  we  find  in  Prinkipo. 


f  I 

w 


AN  EGYPTIAN  INVENTION. 


89 


I  am  inclined  to  tell  a  story  at  the  risk  of  in- 
credulity. When  in  Egypt,  in  the  winter  of  1886, 
the  donkey  I  rode, — which  was  named  Sardanap- 
alus,  because  he  fared  so  sumptuously, — became 
overweary  in  our  long  ride  to  the  temple  of  Abydos, 
on  the  border  of  the  desert.  He  was  taken  into 
the  cool  chambers  and  hitched  amidst  its  cyclopian 
pillars.  Under  the  very  eye  of  a  painted  Rameses, 
he  hung  up  his  head  by  his  upper  teeth  to  a  ledge 
of  the  structure,  and  thus  rested.  I  thought  at 
first  he  was  fascinated  by  the  double-crowned 
king  of  Egypt,  who  peered  down  at  him  with 
almond  eyes ;  but  no  !  it  was  a  little  contrivance 
of  his  own  to  hold  up  his  heavy  head. 

I  once  served  on  a  Committee  on  Foreign 
Affairs  in  the  House  of  Representatives  with  a 
member  from  Nevada.  He  has  since  been  Minis- 
ter to  the  Sandwich  Islands.  In  the  absence  of 
better  business  before  the  Committee,  he  on  one 
occasion  entertained  that  body  with  a  description 
of  a  contest  between  a  grizzly  bear  and  a  jackass. 
The  idea  that  the  grizzly  had  failed  in  the  contest 
gave  great  satisfaction  to  the  Foreign  Affairs 
Committee.  It  has  been  my  constant  delight 
since  that  time  to  review  the  terrific  contest  as 
depicted  by  the  then  member  from  the  Sierras. 
If  he  did  not  exaggerate,  as  doubtless  he  did  not, 
there  never  was  in  the  history  of  animated  nature 
a  beast  with  such  belligerent  propensities.  They 


9o 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


reached  even  to  his  extremities.  How  he  de- 
feated the  grizzly  bear ;  how  he  won  the  hearts 
of  the  Nevada  people  ;  how  he  pursued  his  enemy 
until  the  last  element  and  microbe  of  its  being 
was  annihilated,  can  only  be  told  by  the  ex-editor 
of  the  Nevada  Enterprise,  whose  "lecture"  on 
that  subject  deserves  to  be  filed  with  his  diplo- 
matic correspondence  with  King  Kalakaua  ! 

My  memory  of  his  description  of  this  fighting 
animal,  recalled  in  the  land  of  the  Homeric  Greek, 
makes  me  tolerant  of  its  vociferation  in  the  early 
morning.  I  have  been  told  that  after  this  victory, 
Nevada  seriously  contemplated  giving  a  place  to 
the  donkey  in  her  armorial  bearings  ;  and  that  it 
was  only  prevented  by  a  chivalrous  spirit  of  inter- 
State  comity  which  would  avoid  offence  to  Califor- 
nia's grizzly  shield. 

Every  defence  of  this  patient  animal,  by  per- 
sons in  or  out  of  authority,  has  been  welcome. 
When  questions  are  asked  by  his  representative 
in  Congress,  when  the  heads  of  departments  send 
in  their  reports,  when  a  constituent  writes  for 
the  agricultural  report — which  frequently  contains 
his  portrait, — when  a  newspaper  makes  inordinate 
or  irrational  humor,  well, — I  feel  like  defending 
the  donkey  against  the  attacks  which  the  incon- 
siderate may  make.  ^Esop,  in  his  fables,  and  the 
world,  with  its  satire,  have  made  light  of  his  ra- 
tional attributes.  He  is  yet  to  be  thoroughly  vin- 


v 


4       I 

9 


THE  ASS  IN  HISTORY.  QI 

dicated.  A  French  poet  once  said  :  "  A  force  de 
malheurs  Vane  est  inter  essant"  Some  of  our 
comic  papers  in  New  York  have  shown  that  the 
ass  is  conspicuously  an  ass  when  he  does  not  know 
it.  Oftentimes  an  irrational  person  may  call  a 
man  an  ass.  He  does  not  intend  to,  but  gener- 
ally he  wrongs  the  animal. 

I  like  the  theology  of  India.  It  reverences  all 
animals.  The  souls  of  men  even  inspired  and 
often  ventured  within  the  precincts  and  anatomy 
of  the  animal  after  death. 

I  am  proud  to  confirm  the  statement  of  the 
member  of  Congress  from  Nevada,  that  the  ass  is 
a  warrior.  On  the  authority  of  Voltaire,  I  may 
allege  that  Mirvan,  the  twenty-first  Caliph,  was 
called  "  The  Ass"  for  his  valor.  Homer  compared 
the  coward  Paris  to  a  horse  ;,but  when  he  sought 
for  a  heroic  synonym  to  glorify  Ajax,  he  likened 
him  to  an  ass. 

Greece  and  Rome  were  careful  to  produce  the 
best  breed  of  these  animals.  They  were  more 
precious  than  slaves  in  the  market.  Our  own 
Bible  has  many  allusions  to  this  animal.  It 
makes  him  sacred.  The  wild  ass  of  Job  may  not 
have  the  equine  thunder  in  his  neck ;  he  may  not 
snuff  the  battle  from  afar ;  but  he  is,  nevertheless, 
good  at  a  fight  when  it  is  near.  He  is  a  magnifi- 
cent figure  in  Biblical  history.  We  know  his 
relation  with  the  life  of  the  Holy  Family. 


<p2  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Any  one  who  has  seen  the  Arab,  or  the  donkey, 
whether  in  Egypt,  in  Syria,  or  in  these  isles, 
will  understand  that  the  family  is  not  less  holy 
by  the  presence  of  this  animal. 

Why  is  it  that  the  ass's  head  never  figured 
among  the  gargoyles  and  other  strange  carviogs 
in  the  architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages?  There 
must  have  been  a  prejudice  at  that  time  against  all 
sedate  and  reverent  objects.  Coming  down  to  a 
later  time,  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  the  ass  led  in 
grand  procession  in  the  solemn  ceremonies  of  the 
Church.  Chants  were  sung  in  his  honor.  Even 
imitations  of  his  braying,  certainly  more  musical 
than  those  of  Prinkipo,  were  heard  in  the  re- 
sponses of  the  assistants  who  took  up  the  melodi- 
ous noises  and  gave  harmony  to  the  mediaeval 
mind. 

What  though  this  animal  have  the  power  by  its 
voice  to  arouse  us  in  the  early  morning ;  why 
should  we  be  sluggard,  when  the  virtues  of  pa- 
tience and  humility,  which  are  typified  in  his  life 
and  manners,  are  given  for  our  instruction  ?  Let 
us  not  be  iconoclasts.  Let  us  believe  in  the  dig- 
nity of  the  ass.  Let  him  be  rewarded,  not  as  a 
degenerate  horse  and  the  subject  of  universal  rid- 
icule, but  as  an  illustrious  object  of  all  the  ages, 
having  the  qualities  of  antiquity  and  goodness, 
faithful  among  the  faithless,  and  by  no  means  to 
be  disregarded  because  of  his  capacity  of  hearing. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  BULBUL.  ^ 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  ass  does  sometimes 
allow  us  inhabitants  of  Prinkipo  a  respite  from  his 
music.  It  is  at  eventide.  When  the  day  begins, 
the  donkeys  are  at  their  useful  work,  as  carriers  of 
water,  provender,  materials,  furniture  and  persons. 
When  the  evening  comes  with  its  soothing  light 
on  the  hill  sides  and  amidst  the  pine  shades ,  when 
families  begin  to  pack  up  their  rugs  and  dishes, 
preparing  for  a  descent  from  the  picnic  grounds  ; 
when  lovers  begin  softly  to  steal  away  and  coo 
amidst  the  rocks  ;  when  the  flecked  and  shaggy 
trunks  and  limbs  of  the  old  pines  begin  to  cast  their 
long  shadows  over  the  sinuosities  of  the  paths — 
oh !  then  comes  the  quietude  beyond  all  other 
spots  of  earth.  Then  each  person  may  wander 
at  will  over  the  cliffs  and  under  the  silent  groves, 
utterly  isolate  with  the  summer  sea  that  makes 
no  murmur  against  the  placid  shore. 

I  have  the  same  fondness  for  birds  in  which 
George  Sand  delighted.  They  are  almost  as 
indispensable  in  a  landscape  as  trees  or  running 
waters.  When  we  first  came  to  Prinkipo,  in  the 
late  spring,  there  was  at  daybreak,  in  the  olive 
trees  of  our  neighbor,  a  bird  which  I  persisted  in 
recognizing  as  a  nightingale.  Such  "  liquid  sweet- 
ness long  drawn  out,"  must  have  belonged  to  the 
bulbul.  He  made  love  to  our  roses  like  a  true 
Oriental.  He  made  love  to  a  whole  garden  or 
harem  of  roses — the  profligate !  However,  he 


94  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

departed  as  mysteriously  as  he  came.  The  little 
brown  rossingnol,  which  our  "  Amty,"  the  cook, 
kept  caged  under  the  catalpa  tree  in  the  back 
court,  refused  to  sing  any  more  responses.  Her 
heart  was  off  in  the  further  East,  where  the  seven 
rivers  of  Damascus  are  accordant  and  these  birds 
sing  the  summer-time  away. 

Then  we  have  swallows,  who  make  their  dudish 
toilets  early  in  the  summer.  They  cleave  the  clear 
air  of  the  mountain  sides,  dart  out  of  the  vine- 
yards, and  flit  amidst  the  pine  trees,  never 
seeming  to  alight.  They  are  quite  tame  and 
fearless.  One  morning  while  sauntering  up  the 
mountain  I  notice  that  two  of  these  birds  are 
following  me.  When  I  stop  they  hover  about  my 
head ;  sometimes  within  arm's  length.  I  marvel. 
What  does  it  mean  ?  Am  I  near  a  nest  ?  Are 
these  the  mother  and  father  of  a  brood,  as  to 
whose  safety  the  parents  are  apprehensive  ?  I 
move  on.  Still  they  follow,  darting  far  down  into 
the  valley,  then  sweeping  on  their  electric  wing 
to  the  very  crown  of  the  mountain  and  about 
the  crown  of  my  hat.  I  reason  that  they  have 
been  domesticated  at  the  hearthstone  or  in  the 
chimney,  and  so  I  solve  the  problem.  A  month 
or  so  ago,  one  morning,  a  cloud  of  blackbirds, 
our  own  cornfield  larcener,  took  possession  of  the 
woods  of  the  isle.  They  are  known  here  as  petty 


ISLAND  ORNITHOLOGY.  gc 

crows,  and  do  much  damage.     They  soon  left  for 
better  foraging. 

This  isle  is  distinguished  for  quail.  They 
come  about  the  first  of  September  in  great  flocks. 
Already  some  of  the  pioneers  have  heralded 
their  approach.  From  the  hills  opposite  our 
villa  shots  are  heard  in  the  morning.  When 
the  season  is  full  it  is  dangerous  to  be  about  the 
woods,  the  shots  are  so  numerous.  These 
birds  are  migrating  from  the  grain  plateaus 
of  Russia  to  the  balmier  fields  of  Egypt.  Their 
resort  here  reminds  me  of  the  wild  pigeons  in 
the  West — in  Ohio,  in  my  old  district  in  Licking 
County,  where  for  years  they  were  wont  to  come 
and  roost  as  regularly  as  the  seasons  came.  They 
made  the  air  black.  They  covered  trees  and  fences 
with  their  multitudes.  The  quail  here  are  not  so 
numerous  ;  but  they  fill  the  shrubbery.  Some  of 
the  rich  folk  of  the  isle  are  buying  up  preserves 
to  limit  their  destruction.  After  a  few  weeks'  rest, 
during  which  they  are  massacred  by  the  thousands, 
— even  by  boys  with  sticks, — the  survivors  take 
flight  over  the  sea  to  San  Stefano,  or  the  shores  of 
the  Hellespont,  en  route  for  "  winter  sunbeams." 
Their  flight  and  multitude  raise  a  question  about  the 
quails  of  the  wilderness,  when  Israel  was  hungry. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

COMPOSITE  PEOPLE  OF  PRINKIPO OLD    CUSTOMS    AND 

REVELS ITALIAN  INFLUENCE. 

ALTHOUGH,  as  I  have  said,  the  mass  of  the  popu- 
lation and  visitors  upon  these  isles  are  Greeks, 
yet  there  are  many  sojourners  belonging  to  other 
nationalities.  These  are  French,  Italian,  English, 
German,  Russian,  Greek  and  Armenian.  It  is 
not  infrequently  that  we  hear  a  veritable  Pente- 
cost. In  these  polyglotical  accomplishments  the 
Levantines  are  pre-eminent.  They  are  the  de- 
scendants— somewhat  mixed — of  all  the  commer- 
cial and  adventurous  people  who  have  sought  the 
Orient  and  its  capital  for  occupation  and  emolu- 
ment. Many  wear  the  fez  ;  these  are  the  subjects 
of  the  Porte.  As  we  take  our  excursions  by  car- 
riage and  donkey,  horse  and  foot,  over  these 
mountains  and  through  these  valleys,  we  often 
meet,  ascending  the  hill  in  a  palanquin,  some  aris- 
tocratic lady.  She  is  loath  to  quit  the  old  custom, 
—one  by  no  means  inconvenient  or  abandoned  in 
Constantinople.  We  meet  families  and  groups  of 
these  Levantine  people.  Most  of  them — of  both 
sexes — dress  like  Europeans.  Until  they  speak, 


A  POLYGLOT  BARBER.  - 

it  is  difficult  to  tell  one  race  from  the  other. 
Even  then,  as  most  of  them  speak  Italian,  French 
and  Greek,  it  is  difficult.  The  Greek  predomi- 
nates even  above  the  Levantine.  The  Italian  is 
next.  The  French  tongue  is  used  mostly  among 
the  wealthy  and  official  classes.  The  Levantine 
inherits  from  his  ancestor  facile  organs  of  speech. 
So  easy  are  these  organs  that  it  is  no  trouble  to 
form,  in  a  mechanical  way,  by  the  chorda  vocales, 
with  tongue,  mouth  and  lips,  the  various  sounds 
and  the  words  of  the  various  dialects  of  the  "  seven- 
ty-two nations,"  of  which  Constantinople  boasts. 
Whether  this  be  one  of  the  evidences  of  heredity, 
certainly  it  is  remarkable  how  open-mouthed  and 
comfortable  these  people  are,  who  for  generations 
have  talked  a  dozen  languages,  and  can  roll  the 
words,  spread  the  syllables  and  intone  the  sentences 
of  these  different  tongues.  I  know  of  children 
who,  while  accomplished  in  French,  English,  Greek 
and  Turkish,  revel  in  Russian  and  grapple  with 
German,  as  with  their  playthings. 

My  first  tonsorial  experience  is  in  a  barber 
shop  of  the  old  town  of  Prinkipo.  Most  of  the 
barbers  are  polyglotically  inclined.  My  particular 
barber  is  either  a  Greek,  a  Maltese,  a  Sclav,  a 
Bulgarian,  or  a  Montenegrin.  It  is  impossible  at 
first  to  tell  his  native  tongue.  He  has  French 
glibly.  He  speaks  a  "  leetle  Inglis"  and  under- 
stands less.  He  is  well  up  in  Italian,  as  many  of 

7 


98 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


the  families  in  this  vicinage  are.  He  has  some 
knowledge  of  Spanish  as  kindred  to  the  Italian. 
This  extraordinary  learning  always  gives  me  a 
shudder,  and  especially  when  under  his  razor  or 
shears.  Being  a  stranger  on  the  island,  and  hav- 
ing no  very  pronounced  national  features,  it  was 
equally  difficult  for  him  to  ascertain  my  national- 
ity, except  by  inquisition  long  and  pitiless.  All 
I  could  do  was  to  arm  myself  with  the  affirmatives 
and  negatives  of  various  languages.  With  these, 
I  made  myself  complaisant,  to  save  my  face  from 
bloodshed.  My  first  conversation  with  this  artist 
confirmed  the  general  reputation  as  to  the  gossipy 
quality  of  the  Barber  of  Seville.  He  had  all  the 
gossip  of  the  isles,  including  its  languages.  The 
conversation  ran  somewhat  after  this  style  : 

BARBER  :     "  You  have  been  here  long  ?  " 

I  reply  in  Bohemian,  "  Ne  /  " 

He  easily  understood  that. 

"  You  are  here  for  your  health  ?" 

I  reply  in  Danish,  affirmatively  and  negatively, 
"Ja  !  "  "Nei,  minherre  !  "  "  Yes,  sir,"  and  "  No, 
sir."  This  puzzled  him. 

"  An  army  gentleman,  perhaps  ?  " 

I  reply  in  German,  "  Nein,  mein  herr" 

"  O,  then  you  are  a  navy  officer?" 

Having  in  view  my  position  as  Admiral  of  the 
launch,  I  reply  in  Hungarian  ;  because,  lucus  a  non 


A  BARBARIC  CONTEST. 

lucendo,  Hungary  is  an  inland  country  and  like  our 
own,  without  a  navy, 

"Igen!  "—^Yes." 

"  Your  vessel  is  at  Constantinople?" 

Remembering  that  there  was  an  Italian  emi- 
grant named  Christopher  Columbus  of  naval  re- 
nown, I  reply:  "Si,  signore" 

"  You  will  bring  your  vessel  to  Prinkipo  ?" 

Ah  !  here  was  my  opportunity.  It  is  the  mod- 
ern Greek  in  which  I  reply  :  "  Nae  vevayos" 

He  is  thunderstruck.  It  is  evidently  his  mother 
tongue.  Likely  he  has  a  Polish  father;  who 
knows  ?  When  he  asks  me  in  French  : 

"  Will  your  vessel  touch  at  Athens  ?" 

I  respond  in  Polish,  "  Takf"  No. 

And  then,  with  some  hesitation,  I  add  the 
French  word  "  Petttre" — Perhaps. 

-You  will  visit  Egypt?" 

"  Sim,  senhor"    This  is  Portuguese  for  "  Yes,  sir." 

The  gesture  or  the  manner  with  which  these  re- 
sponses are  made  encourages  him  ;  for  he  immedi- 
ately asks  whether  I  have  ever  been  in  Albania. 
I  have  no  negative  or  affirmative  in  any  of  the 
languages  of  the  Adriatic.  My  Dalmatian  servi- 
tor, Pedro,  is  absent  and  my  next  best  affirmative 
is  in  Russian. 

"Do  prawda"  Perhaps,  being  affiliated  with 
the  Sclav,  he  understands  this  language. 

"  You  have  never  been  in  Egypt  ? " 


I00  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

As  the  pine  and  the  palm  are  associated  in  my 
mind,  and  having  connected  the  Polar  Midnight 
Sun  with  the  Pyramids  of  the  Pharaohs,  I  respond 
in  Swedish,  making  it  intense, — 

"Ja  !  "  Adding  a  little  affirmative  in  Roumanian 
to  give  intensity  to  the  remark,  "  Gze." 

After  a  pause  in  the  conversation  he  resumes. 
He  believes  that  he  has  my  nationality  fixed.  He 
surmises  that  I  am  from  some  Balkan  province, 
and  he  asks  : 

"  Have  you  been  in  Roumelia,  Bulgaria, 
Servia,  Montenegro  and  Herzegovina?" 

Knowing  that  I  could  not  answer  this  truthfully, 
and  not  being  able  to  answer  it  partially,  I  give 
him  back  in  Roumanian  an  emphatic  negative  : 

" Na  canna,  bucca" 

11  You  have  been  quite  a  traveller  !  " 

This  suggests  the  Chinese  as  the  fitting  Ian* 
guage  for  the  affirmative,  and  I  say  : 

"  She  !  " 

Having  no  reference  to  Haggard's  novel  ;  for  it 
was  not  then  out.  To  make  the  "she"  expres- 
sive, I  add  another  affirmative  which  I  had  care- 
fully studied  while  boarding  with  the  Chirrese 
Legation  in  Washington. 

"  Tajin!" 

"  You  like  the  Chinese,  monsieur?" 

Having  succeeded  so  well  with  the  Chinese,  I 
answer  promptly  in  the  negative  : 


AN  INTERESTING  TALK.  IQI 


This  monosyllable  disgusts  him.  His  subordi- 
nates gather  around  the  chair  where  I  was  being 
shaved,  interested  in  this  composite  conversation. 
The  artist  then  asks  if  I  had  visited  Jerusalem. 
Here  was  my  great  break-down.  Notwithstanding 
I  had  represented  a  Hebrew  community  in  New 
York,  with  more  synagogues  than  Jerusalem  had 
in  the  time  of  Solomon,  I  was  at  a  loss  for  a 
Hebrew  affirmative.  Happy  thought  !  I  re- 
spond promptly  in  the  Arabic  tongue,  with  its 
guttural  peculiarity  : 
9  "Na'am" 

It  sounded  to  me  after  I  uttered  it  like  profan- 
ity, and  I  fell  back  as  gracefully  as  I  could,  waiting 
for  the  next  attack,  and  equipped  with  a  Japanese 
expletive. 

''You  like  Constantinople  ?" 

I  respond  in  a  sweet  Japanese  accent  : 

"  Sama,  san  /  " 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  Constantinople  ?" 

I  give  it  to  him  in  English. 

"  I  arrived  there  in  the  year  1851  —  thirty-six 
years  ago." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !—mon  Dieu  !  —  mon  Dieu  /  "  he  ex- 
claims. 

"Have  you  lived  there  ever  since  that  time?" 

"  Beaucoup,  monsieur  !  " 

He  has  not  yet  learned  my  nationality.     I  am 


102  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

afraid  every  moment  that  he  will  strike  America. 
It  comes  : 

"  Perhaps  you  have  been  in  America  ? " 

"  Wa'al,  yaas,  I  guess  !  " 

He  could  not  understand  this,  for  he  had  not 
been  educated  at  Robert  College,  nor  had  he 
abided  in  Vermont. 

I  ask  him  in  French  which  America  he  means. 
He  says : 

"  South  America.  I  have  a  cousin  of  my  wife's 
there,  and  I  would  like  to  know  how  the  country 
looks." 

"  Le  nom  du  cousin  de  votre  femme  f  "     I  ask. 

"  Pierre  Moulka  Pari  Michipopouli.  He  is 
like  you,  monsieur,  quite  a  traveller." 

Then  began  a  fusillade  of  questions  and  rattling 
replies. 

"  You  have  lived  in  Paris,  monsieur  ?  " 

"Jamais  !  " — Never.  "  Been  to  Genoa  ?  "  "  Si, 
signore"  "  Ah,  you  are  English,  are  you  not?" 
With  the  intense  Turkish  negative  I  respond : 
"Yok!"  "French?"  "Won."  "German?" 
"Nem."  "Sclav?"  "Nee/"  "Italian?"  "No, 
signore"  "  Ah  !  Espagnol  ?  You  look  like  one." 
"Pardon,  monsieur,  I  am  not."  "  Well,"  said  he, 
taking  breath,  "  will  you  tell  me,  monsieur, 
where  you  do  come  from  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  remember  the  only  nation  in  the 


COSMOPOLITAN  APPEA  RANGES.  1 03 

world  where  the  barber  is  as  good  as  a  king  ?  "  I 
said  proudly. 

"  Oh,  Switzerland.    Sapristi!    Corpo  de  Bacco  !" 

Understanding  that  last  remark  perfectly,  I  offer 
him  a  cigarette  and  say  :  "  No,  I  am  not  Swiss." 

"Brazeel?"     "Jamats" 

The  way  that  barber  rubs  the  unguent  into  my 
hairless  scalp  and  hirsute  beard  shows  that  he  is  a 
disappointed  man. 

The  next  time  I  visit  the  shop  I  receive 
marked  attention.  The  hands  all  rise  up.  They 
pick  up  the  earth,  in  a  Turkish  salaam.  They 
distribute  it  in  courtesy  to  the  American  Minis- 
ter, whom  they  had  meanwhile  discovered.  As  I 
had  been  frequently  turned  away  from  the  doors 
of  our  American  Congress  after  twenty-five  years' 
service,  because  I  did  not  act  or  look  like  a  mem- 
ber, so  I  was  unrecognized  here,  by  the  "  Oi 
Barber oi?  as  having  no  national  characterization. 
America  was  the  last  race  or  people  to  which 
this  Greek  barber  assigned  me. 

Let  me  illustrate  further.  My  wife  and  my- 
self start  out  in  a  carriage  for  a  turn  about  the 
isle.  We  drive  over  the  Christos  road  toward 
what  is  called  "  The  Saddle."  There  the  vale 
spreads  into  gardens,  and  leads,  on  either  side, 
by  gentle  depressions,  to  the  sea.  Here 
are  two  caffane'es  or  diaskalons.  Upon  ter- 
races, and  under  the  shade  of  the  pines,  are  sev- 


IO4 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


eral  hundred  tables,  with  seats  all  temptingly  ar- 
ranged. At  various  angles  the  blue  sea  is  visible. 
Here  you  may  call  for  coffee,  lemonade,  wine  or 
milk.  From  the  peddler,  dressed  in  his  spotless 
robes,  you  may  buy  an  ice ,  for  he  has  a  small 
confectionery  shop  on  his  back,  with  dainty  spoons 
and  dishes.  Or  you  may  do  more  :  buy  the  toy 
dishes,  as  Madame  does,  to  carry  home  as  souvenirs. 
Our  carriage  has  stopped  on  a  terrace  where  there 
is  a  picturesque  family  group  of  a  dozen  or  more. 
They  are  sitting  or  reclining  on  their  mats  or  car 
pets.  The  outer  wrappings  of  the  females  are 
hanging  from  the  trees  near  by.  They  are  having 
a  day's  outing.  A  faithful  white  hound,  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree,  keeps  watch  over  the  clothing.  The 
grown  daughters  are  off  climbing  the  neighboring 
peak  of  St.  George.  We  hear  their  laughter  and 
fun  far  up  the  mountain.  The  men  are  smoking 
about  in  utter  ease,  while  grandmother,  mother, 
servant  and  children  roam  about  the  woods.  That 
which  attracts  us  most  is  the  odd  costume  of  the 
children.  It  is  made  up  of  very  gay-colored  stuffs, 
red,  white  and  blue  stripes  alternating.  It  recalls 
our  own  national  emblem.  Madame  is  en- 
chanted, and  calls  one  of  the  children  to  her  for 
examination.  As  the  child  cannot  talk  French 
or  English,  only  Turkish,  Russian  and  Greek,  her 
petite  teacher,  dressed  in  the  same  ruddy  trainless 
garb,  comes  up  courteously.  She  adds  French  to 


MINERVA  AS  A  MAIDED  IOe 

her  accomplishments.  Her  name  is  Minerva 
Kypriades.  She  is  a  Greek,  twenty  years  of  age, 
and  looks  sixteen  !  Her  eyes  are  as  black  as  her 
raven  hair.  She  is  now  on  a  vacation.  She 
ter~hes  school  in  Odessa.  She  will  not,  however, 
be  called  Russian,  much  less  Turkish,  although 
born  in  Constantinople.  She  is  Minerva 
—helmet,  spear  and  all,  without  the  Gorgon 
shield.  She  explains  her  costume  as  Russian, 
— a  dress  not  for  the  city,  but  for  the 
camfiagna  -  -  and  of  the  country  of  Mordovski. 
It  consists  of  a  dark  blue  cotton  skirt,  with  a 
wide  red  border,  heavily  embroidered  in  gay 
colors,  red  predominating,  inserted  above  a  very 
deep  hem.  The  waist  is  of  blue  cotton,  with 
the  same  style  of  gay  collar  as  the  trimming 
or  border  of  the  skirt.  Her  flowing  sleeves  are  of 
alternate  bands  of  red,  white  and  blue,  edged  with 
the  lace  of  the  country.  A  very  large  square 
tablier,  or  apron,  falls  to  the  edge  of  the  skirt. 
This  completes  the  attractive  picture.  I  must  not 
forget  the  red  silk  scarf.  It  partly  confines  her 
heavy  black  tresses.  The  same  fabric  is  worn  by 
all  the  children.  The  young  teacher  has  a  heavy 
cincture,  a  la  Grec.  The  buckles  are  big  and  of 
silver.  Around  her  neck  are  several  heavy  gold 
chains  of  peculiar  workmanship.  This  tem- 
porary governess  of  the  children,  whose  grand- 
mother sends  them  all  to  us  in  turn  to  make  their 


I06  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

pretty  obeisance,  seems  nothing  loath  to  chat 
fluently. 

"Will  not  the  children,"  I  ask  her,  "give  us  a 
specimen  of  their  acquisitions  ?" 

"  Yes,  with  pleasure." 

She  makes  them  form  a  circle,  and  they  com- 
mence their  recitation.  They  make  the  pine 
woods  echo  to  their  tender  Demosthenic  philippics 
against  the  Turk.  She  has  taught  her  little 
charges  patriotic  and  other  verses,  in  which  the 
hated  Ottoman  comes  in  for  vehement  denunciation. 
A  small  ten-year-old  pupil  recites  an  appeal  to  Gre- 
cian patriotism.  She  casts  furtive  glances  around 
lest  some  furious  Ottoman  with  big  turban  and 
terrific  scimitar  should  leap  from  the  bushes. 
Luckily,  all  are  Greeks  upon  the  grounds.  The 
youthful  declaimer  is  allowed  free  range.  Only 
upon  sympathetic  ears  falls  the  stirring  and  furi- 
ous waves  of  Grecian  anathema.  Then  a  dialogue 
is  recited.  Then  the  small  child,  in  costume,  recites 
a  Greek  song, — in  the  modern  Greek,  of  course — 
which  is  in  strange  contrast  with  her  infantile 
voice  and  mien.  "  How  does  it  sound,  compared 
with  the  ancient  Greek  ?  "  you  perhaps  ask.  That  I 
can  hardly  answer.  It  is  not  unmusical.  Its  ca- 
dences, at  times,  are  quite  like  the  Italian,  and  in 
places  it  had  some  tough  and  harsh  Teutonic 
tones;  but  on  the  whole  it  is  quite  musical. 

The  conversation  of  those  we  meet,  especially 


PUNCH  AND  JUD  Y  SHO  W. 


107 


that  of  the  Greek  women  of  this  isle,  is  soft  and 
sweet  in  tone.  Perhaps  these  young  Graeco-Rus- 
sians  have  given  to  the  modern  Greek  pronuncia- 
tion some  jagged  and  ragged  consonants  which 
are  foreign  to  the  broad  vowelled,  ore-rotundo 
speech  of  the  sweet  South. 

The  performance  of  the  children  being  over,  we 
call  for  ices  and  lemonade.  A  hurdy-gurdy  ap- 
proaches. We  improvise  a  Russian  dance  of  the 
little  ones  en  costume.  Then,  after  much  courtesy 
from  the  group,  we  bid  them  "good-bye." 

The  young  teacher  promises  to  call  at  our 
villa,  where  she  has  seen  the  flag.  This  she  ac- 
complishes at  a  propitious  time  with  her  pupils. 
We  receive  them  in  the  arbor  overlooking  the 
road,  and  while  listening  to  other  recitations,  we 
are  fortunate  enough  to  see  the  Turkish  "  Punch 
and  Judy  "  approaching.  The  show  is  stopped  and 
a  i^N  piasters  serve  to  reciprocate  their  entertain- 
ment of  us  in  the  forest.  And  a  funny  one  it 
was. 

The  Turkish  "  Punch  "  is  very  grotesque.  He  car- 
ries on  his  show  through  all  the  details  from  the 
cradle  to  the  wedding,  and  from  the  wedding  to 
the  grave,  with  all  the  alternations  of  funny 
episode. 

We  saw  our  little  Greek  teacher  no  more  ;  but 
she  kindly  remembered  our  admiration  of  the 
pretty  Mordovski  peasant  costume,  and  sent 


I03  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Madame  an  apron  of  many  colors,  embroidered 
by  her  own  cunning  skill. 

It  is  said  that  this  isle  is  much  changed  since 
the  Crimean  war.  Then  it  was  Turkish  embarrass- 
ment and  Greek  opportunity.  The  soldiers  of 
that  war  helped  to  give  piquancy  and  adventure 
to  the  pleasurable  gatherings  upon  the  isle. 
Then  the  Greeks  of  both  sexes  met  at  these 
places  of  recreation  and  diversion,  with  all  their 
bravery  of  talk  and  toilet.  This  was  espe- 
cially the  case  in  the  old  town  of  Prinkipo,  which 
of  late  years  has  lost  much  of  its  prestige  and  at- 
traction. Still  its  immense  plane  tree  in  the  old 
plaza  spreads  its  shadow,  and  the  restaurants 
around  it  do  a  good  business,  amid  many  amusing 
escapades. 

The  old  town  reminds  one  of  a  town  in  Italy. 
It  has  narrow  streets  ;  the  markets  are  crowded 
with  fruit,  fish  and  meat  stalls,  and  the  street  is  full 
of  donkeys  and  carriages,  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
the  boats  from  the  city.  There  are  many  saloons 
and  coffee-houses,  for  the  body  of  the  folks  are 
Greeks,  and  Greeks  dearly  love  a  tavern.  There 
is  in  the  homes  of  these  traders  and  denizens 
much  to  remind  one  of  the  Dutch  housen. 
They  have  a  balcony  or  bay-window  overhanging 
the  street,  with  lights  and  beauties  looking  out  at 
each  end.  The  balcony  is  generally  full  of  black- 
eyed,  black-haired  girls,  who  gaze  curiously  at  the 


LO  VE  AND  RAKI. 

passers-by.  The  old  town  once  had  its  own  pier 
of  debarkation  and  embarkation.  That  pier  is 
now  in  ruins,  having  given  way  to  the  more  preten- 
tious stone  scala,  in  the  new  town. 

What  merry  times  those  were  when  the  Maygar 
coffee-house  supplied  with  its  music,  viands  and 
intrigues  the  company  which  met  around  the  big 
plane  tree  for  coquetry  and  deviltry. 

Then  husbands  and  brothers  here  met  wives 
and  sisters,  to  say  nothing  of  lovers,  to  smoke 
cigarettes,  drink  lemonade  and  sherbet,  and  eat 
the  walnuts  already  peeled  and  cracked.  Then  it 
was  crowded  of  an  evening,  not  as  the  scald  res- 
taurant is  now,  to  hear  the  music  of  the  brass 
band,  discoursing  operatic  airs,  but  to  listen  to  an 
Arab  band  of  tomtoms  and  flageolets.  This  bar- 
baric music  seems  to  encourage  the  drinking  of 
raki  by  the  men.  This  white  whiskey  of  the 
Orient  is  worse  than  Jersey  lightning.  Whether 
it  was  the  music  or  the  liquor  that  made  them  "  rak- 
ish," is  not  told  by  gossipy  tradition.  But  at  the 
time  of  which  I  speak,  it  was  the  mode  for  the 
fashionable  beauties — Greek  and  Armenian — to  sit 
amidst  the  smoke  and  the  raki  fumes,  on  the  little 
stools  yet  in  vogue  along  the  Bosphorus,  for  the  ad- 
miration of  the  ruder  sex.  The  Maygar  hotel  yet  re- 
mains, not  far  from  the  present  scala ;  but  it  lacks 
the  great  overshadowing  plane  tree,  whose  roots  and 
boughs  were  protected  as  all  old  trees  are  here,  by 


j  I0  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

a  stone  wall,  and  whose  wooden  seats  and  stools 
about  the  trunk  were  dimly  lighted  by  lamps  from 
its  spreading  branches.  Caffantes  surrounded  the 
tree  ;  and  while  the  Arab  band  played,  torches  burned 
and  threw  their  shimmering  light  on  the  Greek 
and  Armenian  beauties  seated  around.  Then  there 
was  a  scene  unknown  to  the  witcheries  of  the 
present  wooing  world.  These  torches  were  called 
madahs.  We  still  see  them  on  the  hills  upon  all 
festal  nights.  Then  the  Greeks  burned  them  in 
honor  of  their  "flames."  The  color  is  light  blue, 
and  much  favored  by  those  who  represent  Hamlet's 
father,  in  a  proper  ghostly  style.  When,  there- 
fore, in  the  good  old  time,  a  lover  wished  espe- 
cially to  honor  his  inamorata,  he  confidentially  in- 
formed the  master  of  the  caff  ante  that  he  must 
burn  so  many  madahs  at  his  expense,  and  throw  the 
light  so  as  to  designate  and  honor  the  "  She  "• 
whose  "  fair  divided  excellence  lies  in  him."  Then 
the  elected  beauty  shone  out  as  a  star.  Envy  glit- 
tered in  other  eyes.  The  swain  arose  and  made 
his  Oriental  salaam  toward  the  dark-eyed  beauty, 
while  the  tom-tom  of  the  tambourine  and  the  scrap- 
ing of  the  viols  celebrated  this  novel  mode  of  elec- 
tion. On  some  occasions,  when  too  much  madah 
or  raki  was  on  board,  little  fortunes  were  spent 
by  rich  young  Greeks,  in  honor  of  their  favorite 
Helens.  This  was  the  mode  of  courting  by  the 
light  of  the  moon  ;  for  madah  means  "  moonlight." 


CONJOINT  PA  TRIO  TISM.  j  j  r 

When  enacted  by  droning  music  and  crazy  mastic 
its  spectral  light  must  have  been  effective.  All 
that  is  changed  now. 

When  the  United  States  man-of-war  "  Kear- 
sarge  "  was  here  about  the  Fourth  of  July,  at  the 
request  of  the  citizens  I  asked  Admiral  Franklin 
if  he  could  send  his  brass  band  to  the  scala,  to 
play  for  the  assembled  islanders.  He  acquiesced. 
Its  music  made  ®ur  flag  known  and  popular. 
When  I  went  down  on  the  Sunday  evening  prome- 
nade, after  the  performance,  I  found  our  flag  grace- 
fully entwined  with  the  Turkish  ensign  over  the 
archway  of  one  of  the  cafes.  The  stars  add  their 
glow  to  the  crescent.  This  conjoint  patriotism  is 
as  inspiring  as  the  heaven  above  is  glorious  with 
the  crescent  moon  and  the  brilliant  constellations 
of  the  deep  Oriental  sky.  There  is  an  Arab  band 
of  six  robustious  Maltese  performing.  Our  patriot- 
ism succumbs  to  curiosity.  The  crowd  seems  en- 
tranced by  the  weird  music  of  the  strange  instru- 
ments. There  are  two  fiddles,  a  tambourine  of  fish 
skin,  and  a  sort  of  zither.  These  make  tinkling 
noises  to  the  rapid  movements  of  the  vocalization 
which  are  appetizers  to  the  thirsty  Greeks.  The 
Arab  music  brings  Egypt  to  my  memory.  All 
that  is  wanting  to  make  the  illusion  perfect  is  a 
bevy  of  brown-browed  dancing  girls.  The  dim 
lamp  in  a  sepulchral  hall  displays  strange  cross- 
legged  folk,  smoking  on  divers  divans.  This 


1 !  2  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Arabic  style  of  droning  scarcely  changes  a  note  for 
an  hour.  The  words  sung  are  loose  love-words. 
It  is  fortunate  that  the  Arab  tongue  is  not  well 
known.  Mendelssohn's  "Songs  Without  Words" 
would  have  been  more  decorous. 

At  every  turn  and  angle  in  these  isles  and  waters 
there  is  something  to   remind  one  of   Italy  ;  and 
especially  of    Naples,    Genoa,    Pisa   and    Venice. 
There  is,   vice  versa,  much  in*  superb  Genoa,  and 
palatial    Venice  in   her   primal  bridal    beauty,   to 
remind  us  of  these  Grecian  isles  and  Orient  lands. 
Ischia    and     Procida    are    the    hand-maidens    of 
Naples,  veiled  with  a  violet  haze,  which  gives  them 
their  witchery  of  loveliness.     The  Genoese  tower 
at    Galata    dominates   the   Golden    Horn    with    a 
proud  and  ancient  glory.     Upon  the  Moslem  Sun- 
day this  tower  flies  the  ruddy  crescent, — a  symbol 
of  dynastic  change.     You  cannot  tread  the  narrow 
declivities   of    Galata   without    coming    upon    evi- 
dences   of    Italian   supremacy  there   in   the   elder 
time,  for  Galata  was  once  an  Italian  city,  and   the 
seat  of  an  immense  commerce.     The  Venetian  pal- 
ace is  almost  concealed  by  its  plebeian  surround- 
ings.     It  has  remained  as  the  property  of  Austria, 
whose  Legation  is  therein  established  ;  for  on  the 
secession    of   Venetia   from  Austria,  Italy  did  not 
reclaim  this  Oriental   possession.      The  most  sig- 
nificant reminder  of  pristine  Italian  glory  in  these 


DANDOLO'S  TOMB.  j  j  . 

lands  it  was  my  fortune  to  find  in  the  upper  gal- 
lery of  St.  Sophia. 

The  other  day,  in  walking  over  the  worn  stone 
pavement  of  the  women's  gallery  of  the  old  Greek 
edifice  of  St.  Sophia — lo  !  Dandolo,  the  blind  non- 
ogenarian  of  the  Latin  conquest  of  Constantino- 
ple at  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
Not  in  the  body  do  we  discover  him.  The  place 
of  his  burial  is  unknown ;  although  it  is  known 
that  the  heroic  old  doge  and  ambassador  to  Con- 
stantinople had  St.  Chrysostom's  church  for  his 
sepulchre.  There  at  my  very  feet,  almost  dust- 
hidden,  I  spell  out  his  name  !  His  name  is  quite 
legible.  It  gave  a  spell  to  the  "  Stones  of  Venice," 
which  Ruskin  has  not  catalogued.  Like  the  stones 
of  Memnon,  even  in  the  dim  light  from  the  dusty 
windows  of  that  immense  corridor, — it  gives  its 
music  from  another  sphere.  Captor  of  Zara,  soul 
of  the  Fourth  Crusade,  and  Nemesis  of  the  Com- 
nenus,  it  was  his  fire  and  vigor,  when  blind  and 
aged,  which  compassed  the  fall  of  Stamboul, 
despite  its  478  towers,  its  eighteen  miles  of  triple 
walls,  its  fosses  and  fortifications,  and  its  thousand 
years  of  immunity.  Here  he  lies — somewhere 
under  the  spacious  dome  ;  but  his  fame  has  not 
died.  The  dragoman  of  our  Legation,  Gargiulo, 
who  was  with  me  when  we  discovered  his  monu- 
mental stone,  is  himself  of  Italian  descent.  He 

8 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

has  promised  me  to  rescue  his  bones  and  indite  his 
history. 

This  incident  is  mentioned  that  the  reader  may 
not  marvel  at  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the 
musical  dialects  spoken  in  and  around  Constanti- 
nople. The  variety  of  speech  is  the  consequence 
of  the  enterprise  and  eminence  of  Italy  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  Why,  St.  Mark's  at  Venice  is  but  a  copy  of 
St.  Sophia,  almost  its  original !  The  latter  was 
spoiled  to  decorate  the  former.  What  spoils ! 
what  opulence  and  imagery  !  what  pillars  and  al- 
tars !  "  Ouida,"  who  lives  and  writes  at  Venice,  and 
receives  much  of  her  weird  and  luxurious  fancies 
out  of  its  very  stones,  has  stormed  against  the 
abolition  of  the  fairy  gondolas  and  the  introduc- 
tion of  steam  tugs  with  their  Cardiff  smirch  upon 
the  poetic  and,  I  may  add,  the  unfragrant  canals. 
She  protests  in  vain.  It  is  like  my  lady  of  the 
twelfth  century  in  her  boudoir,  embroidering  a 
shepherd  and  his  love,  hurling  furious  obloquy 
against  the  loom  of  Jacquard.  Let  her  Venetians 
restore  St.  Sophia  !  But  no  !  It  is  Venice  that 
is  being  "restored."  Since  1840  St.  Mark's,  which 
had  been  sinking  into  the  mud,  has  been  under- 
going repair  to  establish  its  stability.  Many  a 
strange  inscription  appears  in  the  transformation. 
Art  not  architecture,  it  is  said,  gave  St.  Mark's  to 
the  world.  It  was  rather  artifice  than  art.  Its 
foundations  and  dome  stand  amid  the  changeful 


SPOILS  FROM  ST.  SOPHIA.  j  j  r 

dynasties  and  religions.  No  shoving  or  bracing 
is  needed  at  St.  Sophia ;  what  is  needed  is  that 
which  once  glorified  it.  When  the  Moslem  white- 
wash is  scraped  off  and  the  stolen  property  re- 
turned, what  a  wealth  of  art  will  reappear  in  the 
church  of  the  Divine  Wisdom !  When  that  is 
done  we  will  all  join  in  the  Te  Deiim  Laudamus, 
even  though  it  be  chanted  in  the  sweet  tongue 
of  the  Italian  spoiler.  "  111  got,  ill  gone,"  says  the 
proverb.  In  spite  of  all  efforts  to  save  the  splen- 
did pile  of  St.  Mark's  it  is  cracked  irremediably 
The  lagoons,  like  time,  are  slowly  hiding  its 
beauties.  No  Mosaic  wand  can  drive  back  the 
Adriatic.  No  Dandolo,  like  the  Danish  king, 
lives  to  say  to  the  Adriatic  :  "  Thus  far  !  and  no 
farther!"  Under  the  great  dome  of  St.  Mark's 
the  tide  ebbs  and  flows,  or  such  tide  as  the  Med- 
iterranean has  to  ebb  and  flow.  No  sealed 
crypt  keeps  out  impermeably  its  ooze.  The  floors 
are  breaking  up.  The  invaluable  decorations  will 
soon  follow.  The  mosaics  are  being  effaced  by 
the  tourists'  feet.  Soon  St.  Mark's  must  be  a  new 
structure,  on  new  foundations,  or  she  will  perish. 

It  is  not  the  Genoese  tower,  that  stands  on  a 
treeless  promontory  of  Halki,  looking  toward 
Stamboul,  that  alone  marks  the  footsteps  of  Italy 
over  these  isles  and  lands.  The  hotels  and  the 
tinge  of  the  Levantine  patois  show  the  recent 


1 1 6  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

prevalence  of  Italian  trade  and  growth  on  these 
shores.  Wordsworth  sung  of  Venice  : 

"  Once  she  did  hold  the  gorgeous  East  in  fee." 

But  now  Italy  is  impotent  to  stay  the  great  white 
Czar,  or  to  do  more  than  make  the  protest  which 
she  helped  others  to  enforce  in  the  Crimean  war. 
Still  Italy,  next  to  France,  is  the  relict  radiance  of 
European  domination  in  these  waters  of  the  com- 
mercial Orient ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PRINKIPO ITS   MONASTERY    OF    ST.  GEORGE. 

THE  mist  rolls  away  from  my  enchanted  isle  by 
five  in  the  morning,  if  there  be  a  mist ;  or  if  not, 
the  morning  star  sings  "its  spirit  ditty  of  no 
tone,"  and  departs.  Then  there  is  a  reproduction 
of  the  evening  before.  It  glows  and  glories  over 
the  Asian  mountains.  Their  outlines  are  revealed 
in  roseate  tints ;  and  when  the  sun-god  is  fully 
adrive  in  his  car,  there  appears  a  series  of  pictures 
on  water  and  on  land  from  minaretted  Stamboul 
to  the  scattered  villas  at  the  base  of  the  Bithynian 
mountains.  Windows  glance  with  their  diamond 
splendors,  morn  and  evening,  like  Prince  Arthur's 
shield,  whose  brilliancy  was  so  dazzling  that  it  was 
covered  with  a  veil,  and  "which  to  wight  he  never 
wont  disclosed."  The  sails  of  the  caiques  show 
whiter  as  they  sail.  The  sea-mews  glisten, 
blanched  in  the  light,  as  they  sport  on  wave  and 
in  air.  The  early  shepherd  carols,  as  he  goes  his 
rounds  for  the  pasturage  of  his  mixed  flock  of 
goats  and  sheep.  There  is  a  fresher  scent  to  the 
wild  shrubbery  and  to  the  pine  odor.  The  arbu- 

117 


I  !g  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

tus  and  cistus  take  away  the  stony  glare  of  the 
ground.  They  garland  the  very  vertebrae  of  the 
isle.  The  vineyards  come  forth  in  the  morning 
lustre,  with  new  dew,  all  prismatic  ;  and  the  olive- 
trees  give  to  their  peculiar  dull  verdancy  a  fresher 
than  their  normal  legal-tender  tint  of  silver.  The 
lidless  eye  of  God  looks  upon  the  prospect  and  it 
rejoices.  It  is  new  born  of  a  night  of  starry  splen- 
dor ! 

As  the  sun  rises  in  the  heavens,  it  is  canopied 
with  fleecy  clouds.  The  ferry  comes  laden  with 
Greeks  and  Armenians  intent  on  picnics.  Don- 
keys are  in  demand.  Gardeners  sprinkle  and 
dress  their  favorite  beds  en  toilette  for  the  day. 
Around  goes  on  the  "  chirp!  chirp!"  of  the  ci- 
cada. We  have  dedicated  this  superb  day  to  an 
excursion  to  the  remote  end  of  the  isle  on  the 
east.  There  St.  George's  monastery  holds  high 
court. 

The  early  Byzantine  monks,  and  the  emperors 
who  sometimes  became  monks,  always  sought  the 
highest  mountains  for  their  monasteries.  There 
was  one  built  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Olympus, 
I  mean  the  Mysian  Olympus — just  as  there  had 
been  one  built  on  the  peak  of  Athos. 

The  monasteries  in  all  parts  of  ancient  Greece, 
as  well  as  modern  Greece,  including  those  of  the 
Princes  Islands,  were  always  built  on  elevations. 
In  this  the  modern  Greeks  copy  their  pagan 


MONA  S  TIC  RLE  VA  TIONS.  j  j  g 

ancestors,  who  consecrated  with  temples  the  high- 
est peaks.  The  Acropolis  was  always  especially 
honored.  In  fact,  there  are  upon  Mount  Olympus 
to-day,  as  well  as  upon  Mount  Ida,  monasteries 
whose  cells  are  beautiful  in  their  ruins.  When 
the  snow  melts  upon  Olympus  there  are  traces  of 
the  convents  yet  to  be  seen. 

The  inaccessibility  of  some  of  these  monas- 
teries is  beyond  description.  There  is  one  known 
as  the  Convent  of  the  Pulley.  It  is  on  the  banks 
of  the  Nile.  You  approach  it  through  the  rocks, 
or  rather  you  are  received  by  the  worthy  brethren 
who  jump,  one  after  another,  into  the  Nile  to 
assist  you  to  secure  the  boat  with  ropes  and 
anchors,  so  that  you  may  scramble  up  the  heights 
with  the  aid  of  the  blue-robed  monks. 

Sometimes  these  monasteries  are  reached  not 
without  risk  from,  the  brigands  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. Sometimes  they  are  reached  by.  ascent 
through  hundreds  of  airy  feet  with  the  aid  of 
ropes.  The  idea  of  being  hoisted  into  or  near 
heaven  with  the  aid  of  fragile  hemp  is  not  alto- 
gether unknown  in  our  country  to  sentimental 
sympathizers  with  martyrs  who  have  been  con- 
victed of  murder  in  the  first  degree.  There  is  a 
monastery  on  the  Gulf  of  Corinth,  under  the 
shadow  of  an  overhanging  precipice.  There  are 
the  monasteries  of  Meteora,  and  Mount  Athos, 
both  remarkable  for  their  wild  inaccessibility. 


12Q  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Many  of  the  convents  in  Syria  and  the  islands 
of  the  archipelago  are  associated  with  those  of 
the  Princes  Islands,  as  unrivalled  for  the  beauty 
of  their  position  and  the  splendor  of  their  sur- 
roundings. Besides,  there  are  many  others  in 
Bulgaria,  Asia  Minor,  Sinope  and  other  places 
on  the  Euxine,  which  remain  as  curious  monu- 
ments of  a  wonderful  era,  when  men  sought  exile 
in  strange  places  from  the  eventful  social  life. 
Curzon,  whose  "  Monasteries  of  the  Levant  "  is 
still  read,  found  one  in  Persia,  ensconced  in  the 
fissures  of  a  rock,  with  odd  gardens  adjoining  the 
buildings,  displaying  the  horticultural  intelligence 
of  the  monks,  the  whole  having  the  appearance  of 
a  das  relief  against  a  wall.  He  calls  it  a  large 
swallow's  nest.  There  are  other  hermitages  of  the 
same  description  among  the  precipices  of  the  Jor- 
dan. These  houses  he  studies,  because  they  are 
the  most  ancient  specimens  of  domestic  architec- 
ture, next  after  the  houses  at  Pompeii.  Their  an- 
tiquity is  illustrated  by  the  monasteries  on  Mount 
Sinai,  at  Cairo,  at  the  head  of  the  Euphrates, 
and  wherever  the  Greek  faith  prevailed.  They 
date  back  to  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries,  with 
contemporaneous  relics,  and  crosses  of  rare  work- 
manship, illustrative  of  the  peculiar  art  of  those 
early  periods. 

It  is  to  be  noted  in  this  connection,  that  the 
monasteries,  especially  those  which  are  our  neigh- 


ST.  GEORGE  AND  FATHER  ARSXNIUS.  I2i 

bors  on  the  Princes  Islands,  have  undergone  much 
trial  and  trouble  from  the  subjugation  of  the 
Greek  to  the  Mahometan.  This  has  kept  down 
the  splendor  of  the  Church  and  oftentimes  de- 
stroyed the  establishment  itself.  Many  of  these 
monasteries  were  regarded  as  castles.  Curzon 
himself  says,  that  once  while  dining  inside  one  of 
them  he  heard,  even  at  his  meals,  and  while  the 
brotherhood  were  reading  homilies  from  St. 
Chrysostom,  shouts  and  shots  fired  against  the 
stout  bulwarks  of  the  walls  by  enemies  from  with- 
out. Was  not  this  in  strange  contrast  with  the 
cadences  of  the  good  fathers  within  ? 

But  we  have  started  to  investigate  St.  George's 
monastery, — the  most  celebrated  of  those  located 
on  the  Princes  Isles. 

We  are  hospitably  received  by  Father  Arsen- 
ius,  who  alone  is  in  charge.  He  invites  us  to  his 
cool  chambers  in  the  second  story  of  his  monas- 
tic domicile.  The  views  through  the  large  window 
are  far-reaching  and  splendid.  He  shows  us  the 
images  of  his  shrines  in  the  old  church.  They 
are  black  with  the  holy-candle  smoke  of  centuries. 
An  old  parchment  Testament,  illuminated,  of  the 
year  600,  is  produced.  It  is  his  chief  joy.  It 
is  a  volume  quite  worn.  It  was  brought  by  Father 
Arsenius  from  his  old  home  in  the  Peloponnesus. 
Its  text  is  in  the  Greek.  The  illuminations  in  red 
and  blue  indicate  its  antiquity  and  consequent 


122  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

sanctity.  In  the  little  chapel  there  are  a  half- 
dozen  pictures ;  but  the  gold  is  tarnished,  and  the 
flesh  colors  also  dimmed  with  the  sacred  grime  of 
smoking  candles. 

The  good  father,  with  much  courtesy  of  man- 
ner and  many  inquiries  about  America,  recognizes 
the  American  minister  as  an  "  Excellency."  He 
invites  us  to  see  the  holy  spring.  It  is  in  a  deep 
chamber  amidst  the  rocks.  He  gives  us  a  drink 
of  its  clear,  cool  water.  Then  we  follow  him  to 
a  sombre  room  still  below.  This  chamber  has  a 
stony  forbidding  aspect.  It  is  almost  on  the 
rugged  edge  of  a  precipitous  rock.  It  is,  or  was, 
a  retreat  for  the  insane.  There  is  only  one 
patient  now.  He  is  not  there  to  receive  us  ;  but 
the  iron  rings,  oxidized  with  time,  are  there,  fixed 
in  the  stone  floor.  This  humble  ferruginous 
memento  of  the  days  when  the  crazed  were 
treated,  worse  than  the  criminal,  excites  much 
interest.  In  vain  we  question  the  father  about  it. 
He  only  knows  his  prayers  and  his  illuminated 
missals.  Science,  with  its  ameliorations,  has  not 
to  him  any  of  the  modern  medicines  for  a  mind 
diseased.  However,  we  do  glean  with  the  aid  of 
my  Dalmatian,  Pedro,  who  talks  modern  Greek 
with  the  orthodox  father,  some  hints  of  this  asy- 
lum. From  these  hints  we  evolve  this  story  of  the 
convent : 

The  legend  goes,  that  many  years  ago,   a  shep- 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MONASTERY.  I2. 

herd  tending  his  flock  on  the  summit,  where  the 
monastery  stands  now,  went  to1  sleep  one  hot 
afternoon.  In  his  sleep  he  has  a  dream.  In  the 
dream  he  is  advised  to  dig  in  a  certain  spot 
close  to  where  he  is  lying  and  "he  would  hear  of 
something  to  his  advantage."  He  digs  and  finds 
a  horseman  mounted  on  a  beautiful  white  charger, 
with  bells  hung  round  the  animal's  neck.  The 
horseman  makes  a  behest  to  the  sleeping  shepherd. 

He  is  enjoined  to  dig  again,  according  to  direc- 
tions. He  digs  and  finds  an  old  picture.  It  rep- 
resents exactly  the  horseman  whom  he  had  seen 
in  his  dream,  even  to  the  bells  round  the  horse's 
neck. 

A  superstitious  importance  is  attached  to  the 
discovery.  This  is  strengthened  by  the  fact  that 
the  shepherd, — who  previously  was  quite  an  im- 
becile,— the  moment  he  touches  the  picture  be- 
comes possessed  of  the  most  extraordinary  knowl- 
edge in  all  matters.  The  picture  is  recognized. 
It  represents  St.  George.  From  the  fact  of  the 
bells  round  the  horse's  neck  not  being  painted  but 
real  bells,  the  picture,  when  it  was  discovered  by  the 
shepherd,  was  and  is  still  called  "St.  George  of 
the  Bells."  In  consequence  of  the  sudden  change 
which  took  place  in  the  mental  faculties  of  the 
shepherd  when  he  touched  the  picture,  a  popular 
belief  was  engendered,  and  still  prevails,  that  the 
picture  possesses  healing  qualities  in  respect  to 


124  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

persons  diseased  in  mind.  That  persons  slightly 
deranged,  and  more  particularly  hypochondriacs, 
derive  much  benefit  from  a  sojourn  in  this  monas- 
tery is  a  fact  in  support  of  which  many  examples 
are  cited.  Its  splendid  position,  bracing  air  and 
regular  diet,  free  from  all  excitement  may  have 
more  to  do  with  the  cure  than  the  healing  qual- 
ities attributed  to  the  picture.  Where  the  picture 
was  discovered  this  church  and  subsequently  the 
monastery  were  built. 

It  is  the  view  under  the  clear  sky  and  tonical  air 
rather  than  the  picture  that  we  have  climbed  the 
mountain  to  see.  The  distant  view  more  than  re- 
pays for  the  exertion.  Beneath  is  "  a  sea  of  glass 
like  unto  crystal,  which  was  before  the  throne." 
The  near  view  is  as  wild  a  spot  as  the  imagination 
could  desire.  Around  and  below  are  rocks  piled  on 
rocks,  gray  granite  rocks,  somewhat  red  with  iron- 
rust,  and  amidst  them  various  trees  and  shrubbery. 
At  one  coup  d'ceil  we  see  the  shores  and  isles.  As 
we  gaze,  the  full  moon  rises  out  of  Asia  on  the 
south-east,  and  the  full  red  and  purple  blaze  of 
the  sinking  sun  makes  its  long  shadows  and  mys- 
tical lore  in  the  west.  Diana  with  her  bow  of 
silver,  and  Apollo  with  his  arrows  tipped  with 
roseate  light, — brother  and  sister, — unite  to  glorify 
the  isles,  out  of  whose  myths  in  ancient  days  rose 
those  Hellenic  creations  which  the  world  has 
accepted  as  aptly  interpretative  of  nature ! 


CARNAL   WEAPONS.  I2- 

The  good  father  bids  us  ascend  to  his  reception- 
room  in  the  second  story.  As  we  ascend  we  pass 
an  open  door  and  enter  the  ante-room.  It  looks 
like  a  little  arsenal.  With  the  aid  of  my  Dal- 
matian interpreter,  Pedro,  I  question  the  father, 
pointing-  to  the  three  guns  and  a  big  cavalry 
sword  hanging  against  the  wall  : 

"  So  you,  like  my  servant's  apostolic  namesake 
Peter,  use  carnal  weapons  upon  these  serene 
heights  of  devotion  ?  " 

The  good  father's  eyes  sparkle  and  snap.  He 
lifts  off  from  the  spike  on  the  wall  an  American 
Martini  rifle.  He  opens  its  breach  tubes.  He 
clicks  it,  with  another  snap  of  his  Greek  eye. 
Then  he  responds  with  a  smile  : 

"Yes,  Excellence.  We  must  be  ready/  We 
cannot  tell  in  this  lonely  spot  when  we  may  be 
attacked." 

"  But  the  sword,  good  Father  Arsenius,  what  of 
the  sword  ?  Is  it  a  relic  of  the  '  Peloponnesiacum 
Bellum  ; '  or  is  it  one  of  the  evidences  of  your 
ancient  Spartan  spirit  and  valor  ?  Is  it  an  Ar- 
chaian  souvenir,  or  an  Arcadian  cheese-knife  ? 
Or  is  it  an  heirloom  of  your  family  out  of  the 
more  recent  Greco-Turkish  revolution  ?  " 

He  catches  the  raillery  of  my  ironic  talk.  He 
seizes  the  old  sword.  He  handles  it  like  an  old 
soldier  of  Macedon.  With  Spartan  brevity  he 
rejoins  : 


126  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

"  Excellence  !  It  is  good  for  bad  heads."  Point- 
ing to  the  Bithynian  coast,  he  adds  :  "  Brigands 
have  been  here  from  yonder  shore  !  " 

It  is  indeed  a  lonely  spot.  The  promontory, 
extending  out  to  the  sea,  further  east  on  the  isle, 
was  once  a  convenient  resort  for  brigands  from 
the  main  land.  There  now  lives,  alone  on  its 
extreme  point,  an  old  monk,  who  was  formerly  a 
prodigious  brigand  chief  from  the  mountains  of 
Asia. 

In  the  monasteries  of  the  Princes  Islands  the 
old  monkish  establishments  are  obsolete.  I  be- 
lieve that  they  in  some  sort  are  under  the  control  of 
the  monks  of  Mount  Athos.  But  from  what  I  ob- 
served in  the  monasteries  at  the  Princes  Islands, 
the  rigid  rule  against  the  admission  of  females  is 
not  applied.  Most  of  these  monastic  communities 
debar  all  female  creatures  ;  yet  they  have  the  poor 
taste  to  allow  within  their  precincts  huge  tom-cats. 
These  are  procured  from  the  outside,  of  course. 
The  communities  are  kept  up  by  the  admission  of 
members  from  without,  and  as  some  of  the  monks 
have  entered  the  monastery  in  early  life,  the  image 
of  womankind  has  faded  completely  from  their 
memory.  In  fact,  the  question  is  often  asked 
outside  as  well  as  inside  :  "  What  sort  of  creatures 
are  women,  anyhow?" 

At  Mount  Athos  not  a  female  of  any  kind,  not 
a  cow,  nor  a  she-cat,  nor  a  mare,  nor  a  ewe,  is 


HOSPITALITY  OF  THE  MONK.  127 

allowed  within  the  sacred  precincts.  No  female 
is  allowed  to  exist  upon  their  sacred  ground ; — and 
yet  travellers  have  said  and  avouched  that  female 
fleas  live  long  enough  here  to  breed,  until  the 
nuisance  becomes  a  positive  martyrdom.  These 
pests  are  bred  from  the  filth  in  the  cells  ;  and  the 
dirty  appearance  of  the  monks  indicates  that  they 
assist  this  breeding.  But  nothing  is  so  thor- 
oughly sweet,  elegant  and  clean  as  the  monasteries 
in  and  around  Prinkipo,  of  which  St.  George  of 
the  Bells  is  a  chief  ornament. 

The  good  father  invites  us  to  his  principal 
chamber.  It  speaks  of  feminine  neatness  and  per- 
petual purity  ;  quite  unlike  the  exclusive  masculine 
style  of  Mount  Athos.  Its  dress  is  of  white  lace 
on  sofa  and  chair  and  at  the  windows.  He  orders 
his  hand-maiden  to  bring  us  refreshments.  Along 
with  fresh  water  from  the  well  below,  she  tenders 
us  on  a  silver  salver  a  dish  of  conserve  of  roses. 
You  take  a  spoonful  of  this  dainty  dish,  and  dis- 
solve its  honeyed  atomies  with  toothsome  delight ; 
then  a  draught  of  the  cold  water,  followed  by  the 
inevitable  mocha  in  a  tiny  cup  set  in  a  silvery 
fingan  of  filigree.  Thus  refreshed  you  look 
around.  The  white  walls  are  not  altogether  bare. 
Here  are  pictures  of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon, 
King  George  of  Greece  and  his  queen,  the  patri- 
archs of  the  Orthodox  Church  and  Abdul  Mejid, 
the  liberal  Sultan  of  twenty  odd  years  ago.  Here, 


I28  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

too,  is  Abdul  Asiz,  his  son,  on  a  gray  charger, 
passing  in  front  of  his  soldiers.  He  dresses  in 
Turkish  breeches  of  voluminous  size  now  obsolete. 
The  Czars  of  Russia  also  depend  from  the  white- 
washed walls.  Many  cards  of  celebrities  lie  upon 
a  dish  on  the  table.  The  dish  is  two  feet  in  diam- 
eter. It  is  decorated  with  a  fine  painting  of  the 
Saviour  and  his  apostles,  and  a  verse  in  English 
from  Matthew  xii.,  ist  verse.  It  is  a  gift  from  an 
English  visitor.  An  ornate  lantern  of  Turkish 
make, — the  kind  used  by  families  on  the  dark 
streets  of  Stamboul  before  gas  or  American  pe- 
troleum gave  their  light  to  the  Orient, — is  upon 
the  table  under  the  gay-colored  chandelier.  A 
beautiful  and  large  Easter  egg,  with  a  resplendent 
picture  of  the  Conception  and  Ascension  on  its 
shell,  hangs  by  blue  virginal  ribbons  to  the  wall. 
Is  not  blue  the  favorite  color  of  the  Immaculate 
Mary  ?  This  is  a  present  from  Rus'sia.  A  gilt 
horseshoe  hangs  over  a  thermometer,  and  this  com- 
pletes the  furniture  of  the  reception  room,  where 
our  reverend  "papa"  in  his  long  black  gown  and 
rubicund  visage,  holds  court. 

We  enjoyed  many  pleasant  visits  to  the 
monastery  of  St.  George  of  the  Bells.  In  none  of 
them,  however,  did  we  see  the  mounted  horseman. 
He  doubtless  was  an  illusion  of  some  insane  de- 
votee or  inmate  of  St.  George.  That  saint  always 
appears  as  a  cavalier.  The  bells  are  here,  as  they 


BEATING   THE    "SIMANDRO." 


ST.  GEORGE  OF  THE  BELLS.  ,  2g 

are  on  the  other  monasteries  of  the  isles.  The 
clangor  which  is  beginning  to  arouse  protestations 
against  the  use  of  bells  in  cities,  has  no  reason 
when  applied  to  such  a  locality  as  this  isle.  The 
vibrations  and  music  of  the  monastery  bells  touch 
tender  chords  of  memory,  and  seem  appropriate 
to  those  ceremonies  which  awaken  the  best  emo- 
tions of  our  nature.  While  I  was  not  impressed 
with  the  magnitude  of  the  arsenal  of  St.  George,  I 
could  not  fail  to  moralize  upon  the  incident  in  its 
association  with  the  bells.  The  morale  took  the 
form  of  Longfellow's  poem  after  looking  at  the 
arsenal  of  Springfield.  It  was  prompted  by  the 
sound  of  the  bell  upon  the  distant  monastery  of 
Christos,  floating  to  us  upon  the  still  evening  air 
with  solemn,  sweet  vibrations,  which  gave  to  the 
poet's  soul  the  voice  of  Him  who  was  the  Prince 
of  Peace. 

When  Mohammed  II.  captured  Constantinople, 
although  he  granted  many  privileges  to  the  Greek 
Church,  he  prohibited  the  use  of  bells.  The  bells 
annoyed  other  populations  ;  but  he  allowed  them 
to  be  used  in  the  churches  and  monasteries  of  the 
Isles  of  the  Princes.  There  they  still  remain. 
These  islands  were  then  exclusively  inhabited  by 
Greeks.  No  other  people  were  disturbed  by  the 
resonance  of  the  bells. 

There  seems  to  have  been  much  prejudice 
among  certain  sects  in  the  East  against  the  use  of 

9 


130 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


bells.  I  have  seen  in  Jerusalem  a  heavy  resound- 
ing oak  board,  which,  being  struck  by  a  metallic 
bar,  calls  the  religionists  to  prayers.  In  the  inte- 
rior of  the  court  of  the  old  Greek  monasteries, 
there  is  often  seen  a  monk  who  calls  the  congre- 
gation to  prayer,  not  as  the  Moslem  does,  from 
the  minaret  with  his  shrill  appeal  to  Allah,  nor  by 
the  bells  which  were  permitted  to  remain  upon 
this  island,  but  by  a  bit  of  board  called  the  Siman- 
dro,  which  is  generally  used  instead  of  bells  during 
worship. 

After  a  small  contribution  to  the  good  father, 
and  many  farewells,  we  mount  our  donkeys  and 
go  home  by  the  moonlight  that  now  floods  the 
isle.  It  is  too  late  to  make  a  visit  to  the  other 
monastery.  That  is  reserved  for  a  promenade  on 
foot,  as  it  is  near  our  villa. 


GREEK  FATHER  ARSENICS  AND  HIS  SABRE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     GREEK    AND    OTHER    MONASTERIES    OF    THE 
ORIENT. 

IN  a  beautiful  volume  by  Rose  Elizabeth  Cleve- 
land, the  'sister  of  the  President-,  there  is  a 
clever  essay  on  the  monastery.  Aside  from  much 
transcendental  remark  upon  the  cloistered  life,  the 
essay  has  the  merit  of  a  succinct  statement  of 
the  rise  and  object  of  monachism.  Miss  Cleve- 
land makes  a  contrast  between  the  chivalric 
and  haughty  soldier  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the 
humble  monk  in  sombre  cowl  and  scanty^  gown 
stiffened  "  by  reason  of  his  abstinence  from  the 
sinful  luxury  of  ablution."  She  calls  these  men 
the  aristocrats  of  society,  the  bulwark  and  orna- 
ment of  the  church.  Royalty  bowed  to  them. 

Her  estimate  is  evidently  taken  from  Gibbon's 
chapters,  and  Gibbon's  chapters  have  been  toned 
by  his  study  of  the  Greek  convents  which  played 
so  significant  a  part  in  the  history  of  the  "  Decline 
and  Fall."  The  rise  of  this  body  of  self-sacrific- 
ing recluses — shadows  of  the  living  amidst  other 
shadows  —  she  traces  back  to  Antony  of  Egypt. 
She  fixes  their  locus  in  quo  amidst  the  region  of 


132 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


tombs  and  stone-covered  caves  filled  with  the 
bones  and  dust  of  human  skeletons.  Therein  was 
their  place  of  penitence.  In  strange  contrast  with 
this  picture  were  the  elastic  monastics  of  later 
times,  such  as  Walter  Scott  describes  and  such  as 
these  isles  knew  in  the  time  of  their  prosperity. 
They  were  men  of  scholarly  worth,  and  yet  they 
appreciated  physical  comfort.  The  Benedictines  in 
the  Latin  Church  are  praised  for  their  general  bene- 
faction. They  were  the  agents  for  the  spread 
of  Christianity,  civilization  and  learning  in  the 
West,  while  penitential  cloisters  gave  refuge  to 
the  inherent  monastic  spirit  which  Miss  Cleveland 
classes  among  the  natural  diseases  of  mankind, 
when  carried  to  excess.  She  regards  the  rise 
of  these  soul-hospitals  as  the  result  of  an  indeter- 
minate feeling  among  men,  hovering  between  the 
old  world  of  Paganism  and  the  new  one  which 
ushered  in  dimly  the  Christian  faith.  This  is  the 
life  Jerome  followed  and  Chrysostom  eulogized  : 
"  Afar  from  the  shadow  of  roofs  and  the  smoky 
dungeons  of  cities,  came  the  mystic  light  from  the 
unseen  world." 

Miss  Cleveland  closes  her  paper  with  the  en- 
trance of  Charles  V.  into  the  monastery  and  with 
the  divine  pillar  of  Simeon.  She  comprehends  in 
her  sketch  a  truthful,  though  I  think  an  exagger- 
ated view  of  the  strangest  institution  to  which 
man  ever  consecrated  his  religious  energy.  These 


RELIGIOUS  QUIETISM.  j-,, 

isles  are  full  of  the  evidences  of  this  cloistered 
energy.  When  we  visit  Halki,  Antigone  and 
Proti,  we  perceive  better  illustrations  of  it  than 
the  Turks  allowed  to  remain  in  Prinkipo. 

The  temperament  of  the  Oriental  tends  to  relig- 
ious emotion   and   elevation  of  soul.      It  leads  to 
the  different  forms  of  mysticism  which  have  pre- 
vailed   in   the   monastic    life.     There  are  various 
names  given  to  these  monastic  people.     There  is 
one  especially  translatable.     It  is  that  of  Quietist. 
How  far  at  the  present  time  religious  contempla- 
tion forms  a  part  of  the  life  of  the  monk,  has  not 
yet    been    revealed,    and    certainly  not    to     the 
tourists    who    visit  the    celebrated  monasteries  in 
the    East.     Many   enter   the    monastery   because 
when   they  become  old  and  after  a  life  somewhat 
irregular,  they  desire  to  repent  in  solitude.     Some 
have  been  engaged  in  trade  and  have  had  disap- 
pointments.     A  gentleman   who    visited    Mount 
Athos  made  inquiry  and   found  that  the   love  of 
tranquillity,  pure  and  simple,  without  any  religious 
enthusiasm,  had  overcome  a  grocer  from  Corfu,  a 
tailor  from   Byzantium,  a  merchant  from  Syria,  a 
sailor  from  Cephalonia  and  a  leech-gatherer  from 
Larissa,   in    Thessaly !     One  would   surmise  that 
the  last-named  person  would  naturally  feel  disin- 
clined to  solitary  contemplation  ;    for-there  could 
be  nothing  so  haunting  and  horrible  as  the  mem- 
ory of  blood-sucking  ! 


134 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


The  motive  which  impels  so  many  to  take  the 
monastic  vow,  and  which  they  keep  with  great 
fidelity  in  these  Oriental  monasteries,  is  the  love 
of  tranquillity.  This  grows  upon  the  devotee,  like 
any  other  habit.  It  is  a  great  temptation  for  a 
class  of  men  to  forsake  the  world,  and  find  their 
happiness  in  some  hermitage,  especially  in  a  land 
where  there  is  so  much  balm  and  beauty  of  scen- 
ery, and  where  the  human  kind  brings  so  much 
care  and  trouble.  This  class  become  weary  of  a 
world  where  there  is  perpetual  revolution  in  human 
thought,  and  restless  progress  in  human  endeavor. 
There  is  a  great  fascination  for  them  to  abide  in 
such  a  "  laboratory  of  all  the  virtues,"  as  Mount 
Athos  has  been  called. 

There  have  been  some,  however,  who  have  de- 
generated after  selecting  these  monasteries  for 
life.  They  return  to  the  earth  with  its  activities 
and  pleasures.  I  have  in  my  mind  the  experience 
of  a  German,  who  recanted  before  he  entirely  gave 
his  mind  and  vow  to  the  work ;  for,  after  reaching 
Salonica  from  Mount  Athos,  he  made  a  candid  con- 
fession. Although  he  had  little  care  for  the  en- 
joyments of  this  world,  he  had  not  elevated  him- 
self in  the  scale  of  righteousness  by  his  secluded 
life.  When  he  returned  to  the  flesh  pots  again, 
how  he  devoured  the  political  newspapers,  maga- 
zines and  reviews!  How  hungrily  he  foraged  in 
the  libraries  of  his  consul !  Thus  he  demonstrated 


ANCIENT  MANUSCRIPTS.  j  .  5 

the  emptiness  of  that  life  which  was  inside  the 
cloister,  and  which  shrank  from  the  heat  and  dust 
of  political  and  social  activity. 

It  is  nearly  forty  years  ago  since  Curzon  wrote 
his  "Visits  to  the  Monasteries  of  the  Levant." 
It  is  a  comprehensive  book,  and  gives  in  detail  all 
that  is  worth  knowing  as  to  the  architecture  of  the 
monastic  structures  and  the  spirit  of  their  recluses. 

That  which  inspired  his  book  was  his  collection 
of  ancient  manuscripts.  These  he  had  picked  up  in 
various  out-of-the-way  places  in  his  travels.  They 
were  of  white  vellum  leaves.  While  admiring  the 
antiquity  of  one  and  the  golden  azure  of  another 
manuscript,  there  arose  memories  and  reflections 
of  the  strange  places  from  which  they  came  and 
the  strange  people  from  whom  he  obtained  them. 
He  gives  an  account  of  the  most  curious  of  these 
manuscripts  and  the  adventures  connected  with 
what  he  calls  the  pursuit  of  his  venerable  game. 
Most  of  the  monasteries  which  I  have  visited  in 
the  Princes  Isles  have  old  manuscripts  or  antique 
Scriptures.  These  are  the  first  thing  the  monk 
shows  to  the  stranger.  Besides  the  Holy  Script- 
ures, there  are  many  writings  which  have  been 
composed  within  the  precincts  of  the  monastery. 
They  have  reference  to  the  rules  of  Christian  life. 
Some  of  them  promulgate  the  doctrines  of  the  he- 
resiarchs,  which  in  the  early  ages  of  the  Church 
created  so  much  confusion  and  rancor.  The 


136 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


author,  Curzon,  however,  does  not  dwell  so  much 
upon  his  trophied  manuscripts.  He  grows  elo- 
quent by  the  contemplation  of  the  picturesque  and 
superb  natural  situation  of  the  monasteries. 

He  tells  many  curious  stories  about  his  mode 
of  procuring  the  rare  manuscripts  which  he  col- 
lected in  the  Orient,  many  of  which  have  been 
placed  in  the  British  Museum.  He  travelled 
many  miles  at  great  risk  to  find  them.  On  one 
occasion  he  was  after  a  Syrian  manuscript  of  great 
value.  It  was  alleged  to  be  in  an  old  monastery 
in  Egypt,  near  the  Matron  lakes.  He  took  good 
care  to  carry  along  with  him  some  persuasive  ele- 
ments not  recognized  generally  among  the  literary 
amenities,  but  he  was  so  anxious  for  the  manu- 
script and  a  Coptic  dictionary  of  which  he  was  in 
pursuit,  that  he  filled  his  carpet  bag  with  some 
bottles  of  rosoglio.  This  is  a  liqueur  to  which  the 
Orthodox  Greek  monks  are  partial.  Many  of  the 
monks  even  on  Mount  Sinai  comfort  themselves 
with  this  spirit.  It  seemed  to  be  potential,— 
more  so  than  a  golden  fee.  Curson  gathers  the 
monks  around  him.  He  fills  their  cups  with  the 
sweet,  pink  rosoglio,  and  the  monks  with  much  talk 
about  good-wrill  and  humanity.  Now  Curzon 
knows  that  there  is  a  famous  old  crypt,  in  which 
the  manuscripts  are  kept.  The  monks  have  no 
idea  of  the  precious  souvenirs  below  their  cells ; 
but  at  last,  by  social  persuasion,  they  discover  a 


CURZON  'S  DISCO  VERIES.  l  .  ~ 

narrov/,  low  door  which  enters  a  small  closet. 
This  is  the  crypt.  It  is  filled  with  manuscripts 
to  the  depth  of  two  feet.  Lying  there  perdu  are 
the  loose  leaves  of  the  Syrian  manuscripts,  which 
now  form  one  of  the  chief  treasures  of  the 
British  Museum. 

"Ah  I  at  last!"  he  exclaims,  "  here  is  the 
magic  box!  It  is  a  heavy  one." 

The  boozy  monks  shout  out  : 

"  A  box  !     A  box  !     Bring  it  out ! " 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !  "  they  scream  ;  "  we  have 
a  treasure  ! " 

They  pull  out  the  box,  and  thus  is  resurrected 
some  most  interesting  manuscripts.  They  have 
been  buried  in  this  ignoble  literary  grave  for  cent- 
uries. Let  the  guild  of  letters  drink  bumpers  to 
Curzon,  the  literary  detective  of  the  ages, — and 
drink  deep  in  the  pink  rosoglio  ! 

I  have  read  a  story  of  a  famous  monk, — I  think 
he  was  of  Alexandria.  He  belonged  to  the  early 
day, — perhaps  in  the  fourth  century.  He  went 
through  all  the  austerities  of  the  desert,  and 
wound  up  in  one  of  the  cells  on  the  borders  of  the 
Matron  lakes.  He  was  followed  by  many  of  his 
faith.  They  lived  separately,  but  they  assembled 
together  on  Sunday  and  had  a  sort  of  prayer  meet- 
ing. They  were  totally  abstinent.  A  tourist  gave 
the  saint  a  bunch  of  grapes.  He  sent  it  to  another 
brother;  that  other  brother  sent  it  to  a  third 


138 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


brother ;  at  last  the  grapes  passed  through  the 
hands  of  some  hundreds,  and  came  back  to  the 
saint.  He  was  happy  in  the  abstinence  of  his 
brethren,  but  he  refused  to  eat  himself.  This  was 
the  same  saint  who  killed  a  gnat  which  was  biting 
him.  It  made  him  so  unhappy  that  he  retired  to 
a  marsh  where  the  flies  had  immense  power,— 
equal  to  a  Jersey  mosquito, — but  he  stood  the  in- 
sectivorous infliction  like  a  high-toned,  chivalric, 
middle-aged  and  manly  monk.  His  body  was  so 
much  disfigured  when  he  went  back  to  the  mon- 
astery, that  his  brethren  only  knew  him  by  his 
voice ;  and  even  his  voice  had  a  strange  sound, 
like  that  of  a  buzz-saw  in  motion. 

One  of  the  romantic  legends  which  haunts  the 
neighborhood  of  the  monastery  on  Mount  Sinai 
is  that  connected  with  the  disappearance  of  a  con- 
vent. There  is  yet  heard,  between  the  Sinaite 
mountains  and  the  Gulf  of  Suez,  the  music  of  its 
bells.  It  floats  down  on  the  breeze  at  the  can- 
onical hours.  The  Arabs  declare  that  they  have 
been  within  the  convent,  but  that  the  moment 
they  cross  the  threshold  they  lose  sight  of  it. 
The  Bedouins  have  similar  legends  about  other 
convents.  Some  of  these  supposititious  convents 
are  buried  beneath  the  sand.  Others  have  a  bodi- 
less hand,  ringing  the  vesper  bell. 

On  the  top  of  Mount  Sinai,  which  is  scarcely 
thirty  paces  in  compass,  there  is  not  much  room 


HERMIT  HUNTING.  J.Q 

for  any  structural  or  musical  performance.  The 
dignity  of  that  mountain  comes  from  another 
source ! 

Considering  the  beauty  of  this  world,  the  love- 
liness of  its  Tempes,  the  splendor  of  its  Olympian 
prospects,  is  it  not  strange  that  so  many  of  our 
kind  creep  into  caves  in  their  monastic  fanaticism  ? 
The  Orient  especially  has  had  whole  flocks  of 
hermits  roosting  in  pigeon  holes  upon  the  sides  of 
mountains.  Some  of  these  caves  are  so  high  and 
some  so  far  below  the  surface  that  we  can  only 
liken  the  monks  who  live  in  one  or  the  anchorites 
who  burrow  in  the  other,  to  animals.  In  the  time 
of  the  Crusades,  when  the  Saracen  was  roving 
about  the  Eastern  world,  his  favorite  diversion 
was  hermit-hunting.  In  the  early  Greek  frescoes 
frightful  representations  of  these  chases  are  pict- 
ured. The  Saracen  on  horseback  with  long  spear 
punctures  the  monk  and  hermit.  There  is  some- 
thing heroic  in  this  monastic  constancy  to  a  faith, 
that  never  seems  to  be  outworn, — a  constancy 
which  leaves  home,  riches,  even  thrones  and  all 
mundane  pleasures  to  seek  for  tribulation.  These 
men  retire  to  the  very  dens  of  the  earth,  subject 
themselves  to  cold  and  hunger  and  all  the  agonies, 
trusting  that  their  pain  in  this  world  may  be  their 
felicity  hereafter,  and  that  those  who  bear  the 
cross  to-day  will  wear  the  crown  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OUR    NEIGHBORS   OF    THE    CHRISTOS    MONASTERY. 

THE  monasteries  of  our  neighbors  in  Prinkipo 
have  but  few  monks.  These  seem  almost  entirely 
engrossed  with  secular  affairs.  They  look  after 
the  lands  and  the  funds.  They  make  grain  and 
wine,  and  at  the  same  time  keep  up  their  religious 
exercises  on  proper  occasions.  If  you  would  have 
the  monastic  life  of  the  East  in  all  its  fulness  and 
variety  you  will  have  to  go  to  Mount  Athos. 
There  you  find  about  three  thousand  monks,  not 
to  speak  of  a  population  of  seculars  who  reside  in 
the  vicinity  and  who  may  amount  to  three  thou- 
sand more.  There  are  many  monasteries,  the 
monks  of  which  vary  from  twenty-five  to  three 
hundred.  It  is  very  difficult  for  a  stranger  to 
obtain  accurate  information  as  to  these  figures. 
The  Greek  is  not  a  statistician.  He  answers  no 
question  with  facility  and  satisfaction.  If  you  ask 
him  a  question,  as  I  have  asked  the  monks  on  this 
island,  his  answer  invariably  is,  "  Nobody  knows," 
or  to  put  it  in  the  Greek,  Hoeot;  rb  l^eu^e.  The  truth 
is,  nobody  here  cares  an  obolus  about  the  antiquities 
or  history  of  the  monasteries,  or  their  imperial 

140 


PROMENADE  TO  CHRISTOS  MONASTERY 

141 

founders.  The  modern  Greek  priest  cares  as 
little  for  that  of  which  we  inquire  as  he  does  for 
Homer  and  his  divinities.  Let  us,  however,  try 
the  experiment  of  inquisition  with  our  nearest 
neighboring  monastery. 

Within  half  a  mile  of  our  villa,  up  the  moun- 
tain, is  the  monastery  of  Christos.  It  is  being 
rebuilt.  It  is  not  so  old  as  the  others  upon  the 
isles,  but  the  structure  is  more  extensive  and 
stately.  It  has  a  revenue  as  well  from  the  Greek 
orthodox  establishment  as  from  its  tillable  land. 
There  are  a  half  dozen  monks  who  attend  to  the 
gardens  and  raise  the  grapes  and  make  the  wine, 
which  is  the  favorite  vin  du  pays  of  the  isles.  They 
purchase  grapes  in  large  quantities  from  the  Asian 
vineyards,  which  lie  in  a  southerly  and  easterly 
exposure  over  the  long  range  of  land  across  the 
channel. 

To  this  monastery  is  my  morning  walk.  There 
is  a  half-way  place  under  the  broad  sheltering 
arms  of  the  pines,  where  a  score  or  more  of  people 
can  rest  on  a  circle  of  stone  seats.  From  here  you 
can  look  down  into  the  Alpine  vale  below,  covered 
with  vineyards,  figs,  olives  and  cypresses.  To 
complete  the  sylvan  scene  the  pine  forests  skirt 
this  valley.  On  reaching  its  top,  on  the  right  and 
among  the  pines,  are  a  dozen  splendid  tombs. 
They  are  walled  up  on  the  side  of  the  hill  near  the 
monastic  group  of  buildings.  Here  the  rich  and 


1 42 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES, 


the  notable  are  buried.  The  crown  on  their  monu- 
ments indicates  rank  and  station.  Here  are  the 
tombs  of  the  patriarchs  of  the  church. 

As  I  wend  my  way  up  to  the  monastery  upon 
this  quiet  Sabbath  day,  I  find  a  freshly  laid  circlet 
of  rare  flowers  upon  one  of  these  monuments.  It 
is  a  new  monument,  made  since  we  have  lived 
here.  In  the  shadow  of  the  trees  fronting  the 
monastery  are  a  dozen  or  more  of  elegant  carriages 
and  dog-carts,  with  liveried  drivers.  Something 
unusual  is  going  on.  I  enter  the  alley  that  leads  to 
the  church,  pass  between  the  line  of  beggars  hold- 
ing out  their  boxes  for  piasters.  There  is  a  crowd 
of  peddlers  selling  bread,  in  rings  a  foot  in 
diameter.  This  bread  has  the  look  of  pretzels. 
They  are  piled  artistically,  ring  on  ring,  upon  huge 
platters  carried  upon  the  heads  of  the  venders, 
or  are  placed  upon  tripods.  The  bread  is  called 
simits.  The  picture  will  show  the  vender.  I 
enter  the  church.  It  is  commodious  and  full  of 
people  of  all  classes.  Where  could  they  come 
from, and  so  early?  From  the  village  a  mile  or 
more  below  ?  I  suppose  so.  There  is  a  sweet 
canticle  being  sung  by  trained  boys.  Is  there  a 
funeral  ?  I  see  no  coffin  and  no  corpse  ;  for  at 
Greek  funerals  the  body  is  exposed  in  the  coffin. 
Many  large  candles  are  aflame  ;  and  many  of  the 
people,  especially  those  in  elegant  toilet,  hold 
smaller  lighted  tapers.  A  bishop  in  full  canonicals, 


VENDER    OF   SIMITS. 


MASSES  FOR   THE  DEAD.  I43 

crozier  in  hand,  and  a  hat  gorgeous  with  gold,  and 
a  stole  of  most  beautiful  satin  with  gold  em- 
broidery, enters  the  pulpit.  Around  him  stand 
other  priests,  some  in  purple  robes,  some  in  their 
plain  black  dresses,  all  with  the  strange  black  hat 
whose  crown  is  rimless,  save  at  its  top !  The 
chant  is  taken  up  by  the  priests.  The  candles 
are  decorated  with  white  and  black  ribbons. 
Many  of  the  visitors  are  in  mourning.  Some  are 
weeping  ;  but  it  is  not  a  funeral.  It  is  the  cus- 
tomary mass  for  the  souls  of  the  dead.  It  is  usual, 
as  I  learn,  forty  days  after  death  to  have  such 
ceremonies  when  the  family  can  afford  it.  The 
chant  ends.  The  flowers  are  carried  out  to  the 
tomb,  and  with  them  three  large  mysterious  bas- 
kets. These  baskets  are  draped  in  crape;  and  rib- 
boned with  white  and  black.  I  follow  the  crowd 
of  villagers  and  peasants  who  throng  about  the 
tomb.  Here  the  baskets  are  emptied.  Each  per- 
son rushes  pell-mell  to  obtain  some  of  the  contents 
of  the  baskets.  These  contain  flour,  boiled  simply 
with  water  and  salt.  Some  eat  portions  on  the 
spot.  The  women  fill  their  handkerchiefs  with  it 
and  the  boys  their  hats.  All  struggle  and  almost 
fight  over  the  sacred  emblem,  which  has  been 
blessed.  It  is  a  curious  ceremony.  When  done, 
the  parties  immediately  interested  re-enter  their 
vehicles.  The  gentlemen  light  their  cigarettes. 
Much  bustle  ensues.  The  soul  of  the  departed  is 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

supposed  to  be  quiescent  and  pacified !  Not- 
withstanding the  solemnity  of  the  sweet  music  and 
that  the  candles  are  beautifully  symbolic  of  the 
reillumination  of  the  soul,  and  despite  the  old 
pictures  of  the  Saviour,  the  Virgin  and  the  saints 
with  their  golden  aureoles  and  radiant  glories, 
which  make  the  scene  impressive,  yet  the  finale 
with  the  bread  and  the  mob  of  folk  'who  rush  to 
eat  and  bear  it  off,  is  not  consonant  with  the 
solemn  beauty  of  the  ceremony  and  scene. 

The  Greek  congregation  is  not  particularly 
reverent,  although  the  rites  are  ceremonious. 
I  cannot  but  feel  that  in  their  devotion  they 
have  not  intensely  the  religious  feeling  or  emo- 
tion. I  have  before  me  a  statement  which  con- 
firms my  remark :  A  lady  visits  one  of  these 
churches  with  a  friend  who  is  a  Greek  devotee. 
The  latter  is  a  fashionable  woman.  She  conducts 
her  friend  in  a  courtly  way  around  the  church 
during  service,  to  look  at  the  pictures  of  the  port- 
ly and  sad-eyed  martyrs.  She  lights  a  dozen 
or  more  of  tapers  to  show  her  pious  zeal ;  and 
as  she  lights  them,  as  the  story  is  told,  she  hums 
in  an  undertone  the  barcarolle  in  Masahiello, 
muttering  between  the  staves  : 

"  The  Virgin  !  I  shall  give  her  four  candles.  Is 
not  my  own  name  Mary?  Look  !  What  a  pretty 
effect !  Note  her  gold  hand  and  her  silver  crown 
with  the  light  flashing  on  them !  Now  comes  St. 


BEGGAR. 


IRREVERENCE  IN  CHURCH.  j,- 

George,  —  I  like  St.  George.  He  shall  have  two 
candles.  Who  is  this?  Oh  !  St.  Nicholas;  I  can- 
not bear  St.  Nicholas.  I  shall  pass  him  by  ! " 

Her  companion  ventures  to  intercede  in  favor 
of  St.  Nicholas. 

tl  Very  well,  then  !  As  you  wish  it !  There  is 
one  candle  for  him  !  but  he  never  was  a  favorite 
of  mine !  There  are  two  saints  in  the  calendar  to 
whom  I  never  burn  a  taper,  St.  Nicholas  and  St. 
Demetrius." 

It  is  not  to  be  ignored  that  in  the  church  cere- 
monies there  is  need  of  some  gentle  warder. 
What  with  the  bowing  and  the  whispering  and 
the  laughing  and  the  fidgeting  of  those  who  are 
gathered  in  a  Greek  church;  what  with  the  lat- 
tices of  the  gallery  where  even  yet  in  some  places 
the  females  are  shut  as  it  were  in  a  prison,  and  the 
chanting  of  the  priests  in  some  sort  of  reckless 
music,  there  is  not  enough  to  attract  the  ear  with 
sweetness  and  gentleness,  or  to  impress  the  be- 
holder with  veneration.  Ah !  I  forget  the  gor- 
geous stoles  of  the  priests.  The  clergy  seem  to 
hold  the  Eastern  Greek  in  thrall  by  their  superb 
attire.  So  it  is  with  the  head-dress  of  the  priests. 
The  very  hair  upon  the  head  of  the  Greek  priest 
has  a  patriarchal  air.  It  may,  like  a  crucifix,  or  a 
torch,  or  a  sacred  candle,  give  an  added  solemnity 
to  the  scene.  Perhaps  it  is  known  to  the  reader 
that  the  Greek  priests  are  not  permitted  to  use 

10 


146 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


either  razor  or  scissors.  They  can  only  reduce 
their  beard  by  plucking  it  out.  This  is  an  old 
Jewish  law.  They  do  this  plucking  with  such  skill 
as  to  make  their  locks  look  elegant  without  being 
too  abundant.  In  part  they  resemble  our  Amer- 
ican Indians,  who  pluck  their  beard  from  their 
faces,  though  they  never  worship  God  by  tearing 
their  hair.  I  have  seen  some  of  the  Greek  priests 
who  must  have  omitted  this  species  of  martyrdom, 
as  their  back  hair  was  done  up  in  coifs  after  the 
feminine  fashion.  The  Greek  priests  have  a 
splendid  physique,  from  which  even  their  feminine 
head  attire  does  not  detract. 

A  stranger  in  a  strange  land, — almost  unnoticed 
except  by  the  beggar  who  asks  alms  of  me, — I 
pursue  my  way  after  the  ceremonies  of  Christos 
church,  to  the  Diaskalon, — the  Greek  name  for 
the  grand  plateau  and  restaurant.  The  flags 
of  all  the  nations  deck  its  central  pavilion. 
Scattered  at  various  elevations  are  these  same 
funereal  people  at  the  tables  and  chairs  under 
the  pines.  They  are  inhaling  the  aromatic 
pleasures  which  mingle  with  the  fumes  of  the 
coffee  and  tobacco ;  and  therewithal  the  recent 
mourners  of  the  church  are  solacing  themselves. 

From  beneath  the  wooded  coverts  we  catch 
glimpses  of  the  bluest  of  seas  and  the  clearest  of 
skies,  broken  by  the  mountains  on  the  mainland 
and  isles,  whose  grandeur  never  ceases  to  attract 


IMA  GER  Y  IN  GREEK  CHURCHES. 

the  vision.  Resting  here,  I  reflect  on  the  strange- 
ness and  remoteness  of  the  scenes  of  the  morn- 
ing. They  are  a  curious  blending  of  classic  Pa- 
ganism with  Christian  rites.  The  very  crosier  of 
the  Patriarch,  with  its  eagle  and  serpent  is  copied 
from  the  bdton  of  Jove,  and  a  hundred  incidents 
remind  me  rather  of  the  Hellenic  mythology  than 
of  the  monastic  and  Christian  life  which  is  here 
professed. 

The  Greek  church  and  ceremony  which  I  had  the 
pleasure  to  observe  at  Christos  did  not  please 
me  as  much  as  the  mosque  and  its  ceremony. 
The  mosque  has  a  simplicity  of  beauty.  The 
Greek  church  has  its  altar,  which  is  separated  from 
the  church  by  a  screen,  but  it  has  neither  aisles  nor 
side  chapels.  The  screen  is  ornamented,  as  is  the 
church,  by  pictures  of  saints.  Shade  of  Raphael ! 
What  pictures!  How  hard,  dry  and  horrible  they 
look.  The  Greek  Church  will  not  have  images,  it 
is  said.  Surely  these  pictures  are  the  likenesses 
of  nothing  in  heaven,  or  on  earth,  or  in  the  waters 
under  the  earth.  No  Catholic  in  Spain  would 
have  dreamed  of  decorating  his  favorite  saint 
with  such  votive  offerings.  Besides,  the  decora- 
tions in  gold  and  silver  on  hands,  eyes,  ears  and 
nose  give  such  a  comical  effect,  that  the  beholder 
only  enjoys  it  as  the  caricature  of  art,  and  not  as 
an  aid  to  religion. 

Many  of  the  pictures  that  I  have  seen  in  the 


148 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


Greek  and  Coptic  churches,  and  many  of  the  man- 
uscripts, are  adorned  with  grim  painted  illumina- 
tions. They  are  from  colors  composed  of  various 
ochres.  The  outlines  are  first  drawn  with  a  pen 
or  brush  made  by  chewing  the  end  of  a  reed 
until  it  is  reduced  into  filaments.  This  pen  is 
then  nibbled  into  proper  form,  after  the  ancient 
Egyptian  method.  With  this  ceed,  or  pen,  the  de- 
votee fills  up  the  spaces  between  the  etchings  with 
his  colors.  The  Virgin  is  generally  dressed  in 
blue ;  the  other  figures  are  of  a  brownish  red,  and 
they  all  have  a  curious  cast  in  the  eye.  The  ar- 
tistic work  is  hardly  equal  to  that  of  the  ancient 
Greek  or  of  the  modern  Italian,  but  yet  many  of 
the  oldest  churches  and  some  of  the  rarest  books; 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  as  well  as  the 
manuscripts  of  many  classic  works  have  thus  been 
glorified  by  much  rude  art. 

The  ceremony  of  blessing  the  grapes,  to  which 
I  have  referred,  is  another  example  of  classic 
reminiscence ;  nor  is  it  confined  to  the  Ortho- 
dox Greek  church.  There  is  a  Catholic  Armenian 
church  in  the  village  of  Prinkipo.  Upon  one 
Sunday  morning  we  were  invited  to  be  present 
to  witness  the  same  ceremony  in  that  beautiful 
church.  The  church  was  arrayed  with  all  the 
flowers  of  the  season.  An  immense  basket  of 
grapes  stood  upon  the  gorgeous  altar.  The  Patri- 
arch, who  is  a  brother  of  the  Armenian  banker, 


CLASSIC  CEREMONIES.  T  ,Q 

Azarian,  conducted  the  services.  It  was  a  touch- 
ing and  reverent  recognition  of  the  kindly  gifts  of 
God.  But,  after  all,  is  it  not  taken  from  the  simi- 
lar ancient  Greek  ceremonies  which  were  intended 
to  honor  Bacchus,  who  "  first  from  out  the  purple 
grape  crushed  the  sweet  poison  of  wine  "  ?  The 
great  world,  as  Tennyson  has  it,  may  spin  forever 
down  the  ringing  grooves  of  change,  but  how 
much  of  the  changeless  remains !  The  very 
images  of  Greek  beauty  in  feature  are  here,  wor- 
shipping the  god  of  the  vine,  in  the  church  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

"  Vulgar  parents  cannot  stamp  their  race 
With  signatures  of  such  majestic  grace." 

The  priest  of  Apollo  stands  confessed  at  the 
altars  of  Prinkipo  ! 

The  Greeks  have  a  good  deal  to  answer  for. 
Their  faults  are  numerous,  but  they  are  superficial. 
As  in  other  nations,  so  among  the  Greeks,  the 
scum  rises  and  is  prominent.  The  timeo  Danaos 
and  the  wooden  horse  have  demoralized  them  in 
history. 

The  Greek  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  Le- 
vantine. The  latter  is  a  mixed  race,  from  Italy, 
Malta,  France  and  other  western  lands.  The 
Levantines  are  Franks  and  so  called.  They  are 
born  of  the  early  adventurers  from  the  time  of  the 
Crusades  to  that  of  the  Crimean  war. 


J^Q  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

There  is  much  to  be  said  about  the  religious 
devotion  of  the  Greeks  in  association  with  these 
monastic  isles  and  structures.  I  know  that  they  are 
reproached  for  their  weakness  and  their  indiffer- 
ence, when  their  empire  was  crumbling,  before  the 
Latin  conquest,  led  by  the  Fourth  Crusade  under 
Dandolo  and  Baldwin.  It  is  said  by  Mr.  Pears,  in 
his  history,  that  while  the  Moslem  was  thundering 
at  the  walls  of  Stamboul  and  when  the  city  was 
again  about  to  succumb,  that  the  Greeks  of  the 
hierarchy  were  disputing  about  non-essential  arti- 
cles of  their  faith  and  doctrine.  The  empire  of 
the  Greek  fell,  but  his  faith  lives.  It  will  not 
be  disputed  but  that  he  has  an  ineradicable  love 
of  liberty  worthy  of  his  lineage.  Nor  will  he  rest 
until  the  Hellenic  race  is  enfranchised.  But  how 
can  we  reconcile  the  condition  of  his  church  and  the 
Ottoman  state  in  Turkey  to-day  ?  The  Greek 
rayaky  as  yet,  is  a  strviteur  of  the  Sultan.  He 
wears  the  red  fez.  It  is  the  badge  of  subjection. 
He  seems  to  wear  it  willingly.  He  is  ready  to 
take  office  whether  as  Vali  of  a  province  or  Cai- 
makam  of  a  district,  as  minister  of  state  or  grand 
vizier,  and  when  his  sons  are  dubbed  as  Beys  and 
Effendis  they  eagerly  seek  position  and  promotion 
in  the  offices  of  the  government.  His  blue  Fanar- 
iote  blood  runs  through  a  line  of  linguists,  states- 
men, diplomats  and  soldiers,  celebrated  as  the 
favorite  servants  of  the  Ottoman  Sultans. 


GREEK  AND  LA  TIN  CHURCHES.  {  5  f 

Nor  is  this  more  marvellous  to  those  who  read 
the  stories  of  the  Greek  revolution  than  the  or- 
thodoxy of  the  Greek  Church,  which  in  Turkey 
is  content  to  be  the  subordinate  imperium,  with  its 
Patriarch,  under  the  Imperial  Majesty  enthroned 
at  Yilcliz  and  supreme  at  the  Sublime  Porte ! 

Perhaps  we  do  the  race  of  Leonidas  and  De- 
mosthenes injustice.  But  after  observing  recent 
events  in  Turkey,  it  may  be  said  that  if  the  Greek 
people  of  Turkey — five  millions  strong — are  wait- 
ing for  the  palingenesis,  or  new  birth,  they  did  not 
show  it  when  Bulgaria  raised  the  sword  to  cut  the 
Gordian  knot  of  the  Berlin  treaty,  in  September, 
1885.  The  Greek  ray  ah  was  then  a  helpful  sub- 
ject of  the  Ottoman. 

The  distinguishing  feature  between  the  Latin 
and  the  Greek  churches  should  be  understood. 
The  very  word  "  orthodox  "  presumes  on  the  part  of 
the  Greek  a  fundamental,  dogmatical  difference. 
That  difference  lies  in  the  rejection  by  the  Greek 
of  what  is  known  as  the  double  procession  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  The  Greek,  and  following  it  the 
Russian  Church,  repudiates  as  an  interpolation 
the  word  filioque,  in  the  creed  of  the  Council  of 
Constantinople  of  A.D.  381.  The  Greek  went 
further  and  charged  five  heresies  against  the  Lat- 
in. They  are  enumerated  in  the  sentence  of 
excommunication  pronounced  by  the  Patriarch 
against  Pope  Nicholas  I.  These  heresies  include  : 


^  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

First.  The  doctrine  that  the  Holy  Ghost  pro- 
ceeds from  the  Son  as  well  as  from  the  Father. 

Second.  The  practice  of  the  Latin  Church  of 
fasting  on  the  Sabbath. 

Third.  Its  sanction  of  the  use  of  milk  and  food 
prepared  from  milk  in  the  first  week  of  Lent. 

Fourth.   Its  prohibition  of  priests  from  marrying. 

Fifth.  Its  withholding  from  presbyters  and 
bishops  the  right  to  baptize  persons  with  the  Holy 
Chrism" 

Sixth.  The  use  of  unleavened  bread  in  the 
Eucharist. 

And  as  the  sweeping  conclusion,  a  repudiation 
of  the  papal  claim  of  supremacy. 

Another  thing  may  be  said  for  the  Greek 
Church.  It  never  claimed,  like  the  Latin,  any 
measure  of  temporal  authority ;  only  spiritual  juris- 
diction. But  this  was  more  in  theory  than  practice. 

If  I  were  to  seek  for  the  glory  of  Greece,  I 
would  not  go  to  the  Acropolis  ;  nor  to  Thermopy- 
lae ;  nor  to  the  art  of  Phidias  and  Appelles  ;  nor  to 
the  ancient  theatre  or  the  modern  chamber  where 
Deleyani  and  Tricoupis  debate  ;  but  to  their  he- 
roic adherence  to  their  orthodox  faith.  Whether 
that  faith  be  pure  or  impure,  whether  its  Protes- 
tantism is  better  than  that  of  Wickliffe,  Huss, 
Luther,  or  Calvin  ;  whether  it  was  wise  or  not 
in  its  times  of  trouble,  when  Polycarp  died,  or 
Byzantium' fell — it  has  been  consistent  and  heroic 


IECUMEN1CAL   PATRIARCH   DEMETRIUS   V. 


GREEK  ECCLESIASTICAL  HEROISM.  l^ 

even  unto  death,  under  tremendous  stress  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  amidst  the  fiercest  fires  of  perse- 
cution. Five  hundred  years  before  Wickliffe— 
seven  hundred  before  Luther — the  Greeks  main- 
tained against  all  comers  their  orthodoxy  and 
primitive  doctrines  and  early  practices.  The  New 
Testament  came  to  all  Christians  in  their  opulent 
tongue.  The  Nicene  creed,  that  settled  as  early 
as  A.D.  325,  the  Arian  controversy  as  to  the  Trinity 
for  all  Christendom,  came  out  of  the  first  (Ecumen- 
ical synod  of  over  300  Greek  bishops  under  the 
presidency  of  a  Greek  bishop  of  Spain.  The 
Greek  Church  "  safe-guarded  the  Niceno-Constan- 
tinopolitan,  Ephesian-Chalcedonian  symbol  of  the 
Trinity  "  in  the  form  left  by  the  fourth  (Ecumenical 
synod.  What  contests  it  has  had  in  its  own 
bosom !  what  struggles  with  Caliph  and  Pope  ! 
what  persecutions  from  Saracen  !  what  contempt 
from  Protestantism  !  But  it  has  never  yielded  to 
the  edicts  of  power,  the  force  of  arms  or  the  flames 
of  persecution.  Enduring  all  the  tribulations  of 
martyrdom  and  the  contumely  of  arrogance,  it  is 
still  a  living  evidence  of  Christian  faith ;  and 
these  isles  have  witnessed  as  they  look  out  toward 
Chalcedon  and  Nicaea,  the  scholarship  and  devo- 
tion of  an  intrepid  race  of  ecclesiastical  heroes. 
If  the  orthodoxy  of  the  Greek  is  a  petrified  re- 
ligion, it  is  a  petrifaction  which  is  monumental. 


CHAPTER  XL 

TRIP    TO    HALKI,    ISLE    OF    COPPER GREEK     COLLEGES 

—SPLENDID    SCENERY. 

ONE  of  the  pleasures  of  our  summer  resort  at 
Prinkipo,  after  donkey-riding,  fishing,  promenad- 
ing and  inhaling  the  health-giving  air,  is  to  make 
trips  to  the  adjacent  mainland  and  isles,  even  to 
the  ecclesiastical  vicinage  of  Nicsea,  and  the  his- 
toric places  of  Nicomedia.  These  latter  places  are 
eastward,  upon  the  two  extreme  points  of  the  Sea 
of  Marmora.  They  are  only  separated  from  each 
other  by  a  mountainous  tongue  of  land,  a  tongue 
which  speaks  eloquently  of  a  mighty  past !  The 
voyage  can  be  made  in  a  sailing  caique,  in  a 
launch,  or  by  the  post  boat.  It  can  be  made  in  a 
day.  It  is  hardly  fifty  miles  to  Ismid,  or  Nico- 
media. It  is  a  longer  trip  to  Nicaea,  now  known 
as  Isnid,  which  can  be  better  made  via  Broussa, 
when  the  brigands  are  asleep.  Isnid  is  the 
famous  locality  where  the  Nicene  creed  and  its 
controversies  made  war  a  chronic  habit  in  the 
early  days  of  Christianity.  We  are  projecting 
several  of  these  trips. 

This  morning  is  dedicated  to  Halki.  It  is  the 

154 


ROSY  AURORA. 


Sabbath.  No  more  beautiful  day  ever  dawned 
in  the  East  than  that  which  ushers  in  this  bright 
morning.  The  sea  is  of  the  deepest  ultramarine 
blue  with  stretches  of  light  in  swaths  that  break 
its  uniformity  of  color.  A  little  breeze  ruffles 
its  surface.  A  few  white-winged  caiques  move 
quietly,  seeming  to  be  more  at  rest  than  in  mo»- 
tion.  The  clouds  make  shadows  over  the  moun- 
tains. The  slopes  of  Asia,  east  and  south,  are 
magical  in  beauty.  The  roseate  aurora  of  which 
Homer  sings,  hardly  fades  from  the  lustrous 
glory  of  the  sky  before  we  are  off  to  Halki,  the 
isle  of  copper.  It  lies  just  west  of  us,  only  a 
mile  distant.  It  is  within  our  view  from  Prinkipo. 
It  has  two  prominent  main-tops  of  mountains,  each 
crowned  with  large  yellow  buildings.  One  is  a 
Greek  commercial  college,  and  the  other  a  Greek 
theological  seminary.  Our  launch,  the  "  Sunset," 
is  ready.  The  Maltese  captain  and  his  crew 
are  unusually  affable.  They  are  cultivating  their 
best  graces  ;  for  on  coming  up  from  Stamboul 
yesterday  we  had  a  breezy  time  around  the  Moda 
Point,  and  our  new  flag  blew  away,  and  they 
looked  as  if  they  were  under  the  patriotic  ban. 
Alas!  that  this,  the  only  emblem  of  the  great 
Western  republic  now  on  these  waters,  should 
have  had  such  an  inglorious  burial  in  the  Pro- 
pontis.  Who  will  find  it?  Who  return  it? 
Who  will  know  it  ?  The  other  day,  while  stand- 


156 


THE  PRTNCES  ISLES. 


ing  on  the  quay,  as  the  "  Kearsarge  "  first  entered 
Prinkipo  harbor,  I  heard  a  talk  among  the  fisher- 
men about  its  "  drapeau"  They  spoke  in  Greek  ; 
but  Pedro,  my  Dalmatian  servant,  translates. 
Said  one : 

"  The  Greeks  have  colored  their  blue  stripes, 
and  changed  them  to  red  since  their  late  fiasco 
with  Turkey.  It  is  a  Greek  ship." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  his  companion  ;  "  it  is  the  tri- 
color of  the  French — red,  white  and  blue,  mod- 
ified with  the  stars." 

"  Nay,  not  so,"  said  a  third  :  "  there  is  a  new 
nation  in  Africa  and  it  is  sending  out  vessels. 
This  is  the  flag  of  the  Congo  Confederation  ! " 

No  one  dreams  that  a  nation  of  sixty  millions 
swear  by  this  starry  ensign,  and  that  the  "  Kear- 
sarge" had  vindicated  it  under  the  eye  of  antago- 
nizing British  and  curious  French  people,  off 
Cherbourg. 

This  flag  is  beginning  to  be  known  here  by  its 
"  Sunset "  coloring,  which  Drake  sang  so  vividly 
and  which  our  launch  illustrates  eo  nomine.  So 
that  when  we  reach  the  scala,  or  landing,  we 
have  a  greeting  from  all  the  fishermen  and  other 
,ftt*/a-wags  who  adorn  the  quay.  The  steam  is 
already  up !  Away  we  dash  for  the  Copper  Isle  ! 

Our  little  launch  is  filled  with  pots  of  flowers, 
and  with  our  blue  flag  at  the  fore,  signifying  that 
the  ministerial  "  Admiral,"  is  on  board,  our 


mem 


THE  GREA  T  DRA  COM  AN.  l  *  ~ 

old  star-spangled  banner  at  the  stern,  rather  the 
worse  for  wear,  and  our  gay  scarlet  cushions  on 
deck,  we  make  a  sensation  as  we  move  over  the 
sea  not  at  all  inglorious  for  our  remote  country. 

This  island  of  Halki  derives  its  name  from  the 
copper  mines  which  in  ancient  times  existed  in 
it — halkos  (yatobs),  ifl  Greek  meaning  copper.  The 
Turks  call  it  Heibely,  that  is,  bag-like ;  because  of 
the  resemblance  of  the  two  hills  on  either  side  of 
its  principal  plain  to  saddle-bags  thrown  across 
the  back  of  a  horse. 

There  is  little  to  add  to  the  description  of  the 
monasteries  on  this  island  given  in  "  lies  des 
Princes,"  excepting  one  or  two  slight  errors  to 
correct.  The  author  of  that  book  speaks  of  the 
personage  who  restored  in  1680  the  monastery  of 
the  Virgin  Mary  as  "  Nicosios  Panagiotaki."  It 
makes  him  a  native  of  Scio,  old  Homer's  isle ; 
whereas  his  proper  name  is  Panagiotaki  of  Nico- 
sia, in  Cyprus.  The  American  reader  will  be 
happy  to  know  that  he  was  the  great  dragoman  of 
the  Sultan,  when  dragomans  were  more  distin- 
guished and  less  common  than  at  present.  They 
will  also  be  pleased  to  know  that  he  was  not  from 
Scio,  but  from  Cyprus.  In  the  library  of  this 
monastery  are  to  be  found  some  fifty  or  sixty  old 
manuscripts,  mostly  relating  to  ecclesiastical  mat- 
ters, written  on  parchment  and  dating  as  far  back 
as  the  sixth  century. 


158 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


In  a  remote  part  of  Halki  lived,  up  to  four  years 
ago,  an  old  monk.  A  certain  mystery  was  at- 
tached to  him.  He  was  formerly  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant and  a  highly  respected  member  of  society. 
One  day,  about  thirty  years  ago,  he  left  his  house 
in  Pera,  in  the  morning  as  usual,  to  go  to  his  busi- 
ness. He  did  not,  however,  make  his  appearance 
at  his  counting-house  that  day  and  did  not  return 
home  in  the  evening,  in  fact,  he  did  not  return  at 
all.  Inquiries  were  made.  About  a  month  after- 
wards he  was  discovered  in  a  retired  spot  of  Halki. 
There  he  had  built  for  himself  with  his  own  hands 
a  wooden  hut  and  was  living  in  it,  having  assumed 
the  garb  of  a  monk.  Neither  the  solicitations  of 
his  wife,  children  or  friends  could  induce  him  to 
return  to  his  home  or  explain  his  strange  conduct. 
He  sent  them  all  away.  He  lived  for  nearly 
twenty-five  years  in  that  hut,  subsisting  on  herbs 
and  presents  from  charitable  people.  Money  he 
would  not  accept,  but  bread  and  other  perquisites 
he  did  not  refuse.  He  spent  his  time  in  study 
and  prayer.  Of  late  years  he  was  held  in  great 
veneration  by  the  -inhabitants  of  the  isle.  When 
he  retired  to  Halki,  he  left  behind  him  an  excel- 
lent business  and  a  fortune  of  nearly  $100,000. 

Why  anticipate  these  incidents  ?  They  make 
Halki  interesting.  My  portfolio  is  crowded  with 
memoranda  of  this  historic  and  monastic  isle. 
They  concern  its  three  monasteries,  its  commercial 


SECKE  TS  OF  HALKI.  l  -  g 

school,  its  natural  position  in  the  sea  and  its 
paradisiacal  beauty  and  situation.  What  convents  ! 
what  tombs  !  what  buried  patriarchs !  What 
biographies  associated  with  the  Paleologii — John 
VIII.  especially  !  What  ravages  by  fire  and  war! 
What  grandeur  of  Greek  dragomans,  like  the 
famous  Nicosias  Panagiotaki !  What  funereal 
corteges  by  sea  !  what  Phanarotic  ability  !  These 
added  to  the  natural  beauties  of  the  isle,  transmute 
the  copper  of  Halki  into  the  golden  ingots  of  his- 
tory and  chivalry. 

The  time  is  propitious  to  search  for  the  secrets 
of  Halki.  Every  page  of  Gibbon  calls  aloud. 
The  round  tower  of  the  Genoese  beckons !  A 
thousand  years,  eloquent  of  historic  glory,  almost 
forgotten  by  our  new  hemisphere — years  in  which 
eunuchs,  emperors,  empresses,  patriarchs,  clerical 
and  domestic,  local  and  foreign  wars,  come  and 
go  like  rainbows.  These  all  invite  us  to  study 
Halki ! 

We  had  arranged  to  have  with  us  Admiral 
Woods  Pasha.  He  is  an  English  gentleman, 
formerly  of  the  English  navy.  For  the  past 
twenty  years  he  has  been  in  the  Turkish  naval 
service,  and  has  reached,  for  a  young  man,  quite 
an  exalted  place  in  the  service.  For  several 
years  he  was  a  professor  in  the  naval  school  at 
Halki.  Since  the  Turks  have  been  threatened  re- 
cently with  disintegration,  he  is  expected  there 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

again  to  lecture  on  explosives,  torpedoes,  and  naval 
warfare  generally.  In  these  matters  he  is  peer- 
less as  a  student  and  accomplished  as  a  practical 
officer.  To  him  Halki  is  an  open  book.  For  him 
all  its  pretty  bays,  nooks,  and  paths,  its  monu- 
ments and  monasteries,  its  social,  historic  and  per- 
sonal memories  serve  to  illuminate  the  open  vol- 
ume. His  sister  accompanies  us.  She  speaks 
modern  Greek,  and  interprets  for  us.  The  Admi- 
ral Pasha  speaks  Turkish  like  a  native. 

We  reach  the  isle.  We  land  on  the  scala,  at 
the  door  almost  of  the  naval  college.  The  marines 
perceive  the  Admiral,  for  he  wears  the  undress 
uniform  of  his  rank.  They  make  salutation  as 
we  enter  the  gateway  of  the  huge  building.  Like 
most  of  the  monster  buildings  in  the  East  it  is 
painted  yellow.  It  was  used  once  as  a  cazerne  or 
barracks.  As  a  consequence  there  is  a  mosque 
near  by.  This  is  signified  by  the  white  minaret. 
It  is  vacation  in  the  college  now.  We  find,  as  is 
the  case  in  all  edifices — public  and  private,  in  this 
country — that  the  inside  of  the  college  and  grounds 
is  more  inviting  than  the  outside  indicates.  We 
find  ourselves,  under  the  convoy  of  a  Turkish 
naval  officer,  within  grounds  laid  out  with  great 
beauty,  but  in  a  neglected  condition.  Flowers, 
creepers,  rare  shrubbery,  and  trees,  make  a  picture 
none  the  less  interesting,  because  en  ddshabille. 
The  Admiral  Pasha  relates  many  tales  of  these 


RE  VELS  A  T  HALKI. 


grounds.  These  tales  relate  to  the  days  of  Mah- 
moud  II.,  who  massacred  the  Janissaries.  That 
Sultan  used  to  come  here  from  the  capital  to  have 
a  revel,  sending  for  the  attractive  beauties  of  the 
isle  and  making  merry  like  an  old  feudal  lord  of 
the  manor.  His  son,  Abdul  Mejid,  was  also  accus- 
tomed to  visit  here  for  days  together,  but  not  in 
such  a  hilarious  fashion.  Abdul  Mejid's  son,  Ab- 
dul Hamid,  the  present  Sultan,  has  never  been  here. 

The  grounds  are  in  sad  decay.  The  naval  cus- 
todian tells  us  that  this  year  a  sum  is  set  apart  for 
the  renovation  of  the  grounds  and  buildings. 

We  enter  the  building.  There  is  nothing  to 
note  except  large  rooms  with  furniture  once  rich, 
now  faded,  and  chandeliers  that  would  do  honor 
to  Dolma  Batche  or  Peterhoff. 

"  Here  is  the  chamber,"  says  the  Admiral, 
"where,  on  the  visit  of  the  allied  fleets  after  the 
Crimean  war,  we  gave  the  allied  officers  a  grand 
fete  and  heavenly  dance.  Did  you  note  these 
rude  pillars  unpainted  on  the  first  floor  ?  Well, 
I  had  them  put  under  the  floor  to  support  the 
dancers.  It  was  done  in  a  few  hours  on  a  hasty 
summons." 

"By  you?"  I  ask. 

"  By  my  orders  !  The  timber  was  prepared  in 
Stamboul,  brought  down  here  in  the  afternoon,  set 
up  in  style  before  night,  and  we  danced  over  it  till 
morning  !  How's  that  ?  " 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

"  I  did  not  think,  Admiral,  that  the  Turks  were 
so  energetic." 

"  Oh  !  they  are  great  on  spirts,  when  the  '  occa- 
sion sudden  '  demands  exertion." 

As  it  is  vacation  no  students  assemble  to  gratify 
their  curiosity  at  our  unexpected  advent.  When 
my  Dalmatian,  Pedro,  signifies  that  he  desires  a 
half-dozen  donkeys  to  be  ready  on  our  return  from 
seeing  the  naval  school,  we  are  surrounded  by  a 
bevy  of  young  Greeklings, — Arabs  I  was  about  to 
say, — of  the  town.  They  do  not  use  suspenders  ; 
sometimes  they  have  a  sash  or  belt  like  their 
elders.  Their  pantaloons  may  be  said  to  be  like  a 
doubtful  bill  after  a  field  day  in  Congress, — full 
of  amendments — amendments  in  front  and  rear. 
Some  are  so  much  covered  with  patches  as  to 
be  a  "  substitute,"  leaving  only  the  title  !  These 
gamins  are  not  badly  behaved.  I  am  yet  to  see 
any  bad  boy  among  the  Greeks.  When  Pedro 
indicates  a  wish  for  donkeys,  a  race  begins  for  the 
remote  donkey  stand.  It  is  Epaminondas  against 
Lycurgus — Eschines  over  again  for  the  crown 
against  Demosthenes.  Around  the  corner  come 
the  gamins  with  four  donkeys  and  a  horse  !  I 
mount  the  horse.  The  steed  is  fiery.  Our  sailor 
George  and  servant  Pedro  assist  us  to  mount. 
Away  we  go  !  We  had  become  used  to  gaping, 
curious  crowds  while  in  Egypt ;  so  that  when  the 


REBELLION  A  GAINST  CA RRIA  GES.  j  5  n 

housewives  of  the  town  rush  to  their  windows  to 
gaze  at  our  procession,  we  are  not  embarrassed. 

"  Which  way  shall  we  go?"  I  ask  the  Admiral. 
"  Up  the  magnificent  avenue  of  cypresses,  which 
takes  us  to  the  oldest  monastery  ?" 

He  responds : 

"  Let  us  reserve  that  to  the  last." 

No  carriages  are  allowed  in  Halki.  The  only 
locomotion  is  by  foot  or  donkey.  Some  years  ago 
the  attempt  was  made  to  introduce  carriages,  as  the 
roads  are  suitable  for  them  ;  but  the  very  donkeys, 
together  with  their  drivers,  raised  a  thundering 
note  of  rebellion.  The  harness  of  the  new  regime 
of  drivers  was  cut,  the  vehicles  disordered,  and  the 
scheme  abandoned.  In  Prinkipo  the  same  sort 
of  revolution  failed.  The  private  carriages  tri- 
umphed, and  there  was  no  power  in  the  don- 
key battalions  against  the  gold  of  the  Hellenic 
bankers. 

Halki  plumes  herself  on  her  freedom  from 
the  aristocratic  carriage.  Her  paths  are  paths 
of  peace,  and  her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasant- 
ness. In  fact,  there  is  a  quietude  and  beauty 
about  her  solitary  meandering  walks  that  make 
her  more  attractive  to  the  monastic  or  studious 
mind  than  her  more  fashionable  sister  isle. 

We  take  up  our  line  of  march  to  the  lofty  top  of 
the  mountain,  where  the  theological  seminary  with 
its  piles  of  yellow-painted  stone  and  beautiful, 


!64  THE  PRINCES  ISLES 

ample  grounds  give  the  finest  view  of  the  islands 
and  the  two  continents. 

I  have  said  that  it  was  difficult  to  find  any  litera- 
ture concerning  these  isles  outside  of  the  modern 
Greek.  This  I  cannot  read.  But  one  capital 
object  is  always  apparent  without  seeking  other 
than  tablets  of  stone  set  in  mortar ;  and  that  is 
the  prevalence  of  religious  enthusiasm  as  associ- 
ated with  these  isles.  The  monastery  is  ever  up- 
permost. It  was  quite  as  convenient  for  the  state, 
as  a  prison  and  refuge,  as  for  the  church  to  per- 
petuate Greek  teaching  and  tenets.  These  tenets 
are  especially  saturated  with  the  reclusive  life.  No 
place  in  the  Eastern  World,  unless  it  be  Mount 
Athos,  is  so  fitted  for  the  solitary  musings  and  reflec- 
tions of  the  cenobite  as  these  isles.  There  is  no 
place  so  fitted,  I  may  add,  for  the  anchorite  also. 
Both  words  are  as  Greek  as  the  habits  of  the 
Greek  fathers  of  the  Christian  Church.  The  word 
cenobite  is  from  Kocub^  common  ;  and  /&oc,  life.  It 
signifies  a  community,  in  opposition  to  the  anchor- 
ite, who  was  a  solitary  hermit,  from  avd,  back, 
and  to  Xoffee^  retire. 

This  isle  of  Halki  is  the  home  of  both  of  these 
recluses.  This  the  sequel  will  show.  It  is  an  il- 
lustration of  the  excesses  of  that  pious  zeal,  which 
led  the  early  fathers  to  retire  into  caves  and  con- 
vents, as  if  in  the  very  face  of  the  teachings  of 


ST.   TRINITY  CONVENT. 


165 


Him  whom  all  confess,  who  sought  to  be  affable 
and  social  in  his  intercourse  with  mortals. 

The  convent  of  St.  Trinity,  most  conspicuous 
from  land  and  sea,  is  the  one  within  whose  courts 
we  now  are.  It  used  to  graduate  yearly  two 
hundred  students,  for  the  Orthodox  priesthood. 
The  past  year  there  were  but  sixty-seven  grad- 
uates. Is  this  a  sign  of  our  utilitarian  age,  which 
is  even  invading  this  great  theological  centre  of 
Oriental  orthodoxy  ?  In  comparison  with  the 
number  of  students  of  the  commercial  school, 
167,  this  showing  is  like  Jean  Paul  Richter's 
father,  poor  but  pious.  It  was  not  so  formerly, 
in  the  days  of  Ottoman  persecution,  or  before  that, 
in  the  time  of  the  Greek  domination,  with  St. 
Sophia  as  the  crowning  edifice  of  the  Christian 
world ! 

The  convent  we  now  visit  is  called  in  Greek 
Hagia  Trias,  or  Trtacia.  Its  founder  was  one 
Photius.  He  is  called  illustrious  ;  but  whether 
he  be  so  or  not,  depends  upon  those  who  are  in- 
terested in  the  vicissitudes  of  the  Eastern  Church. 
He  was  one  of  the  learned  patriarchs,  a  leading 
mind  and  conspicuous  figure  in  the  ninth  century. 

The  convent  fell  into  ruins  when  the  Turks 
took  Constantinople.  It  was  rebuilt  in  the  six- 
teenth century  by  one  Metrophanos.  He,  too, 
was  a  celebrity  in  Orthodox  annals.  He  was  the 
son  of  a  tile-maker  of  a  little  town  on  the  Bos- 


T66  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

phorus,  Haskeui.  He  became  an  archbishop  of 
Cappadocia,  and  afterwards  patriarch  of  Constan- 
tinople. He  abdicated  on  a  charge  of  simony 
against  him.  The  story  told  of  him  is,  that  on 
retiring  from  the  patriarchate,  he  received  the 
two  dioceses  of  Lamia  and  Chios.  He  sold  the 
first  and  retired  to  the  second !  He  liked  the 
thirty  pieces.  Still  he  was  and  is  renowned  and 
revered  by  his  fellow-churchmen  and  by  scholars. 
He  was  a  crank  on  one  subject.  He  was  wild  in 
his  endeavors  to  recover  the  manuscripts  which 
had  escaped  the  Turkish  conquest  of  1453.  He 
recovered  many  of  them.  A  catalogue  of  his  find- 
ings was  found  in  1572.  After  his  death  his  col- 
lection was  scattered.  It  is  recorded  that  a 
learned  diplomat,  Ghislan  de  Busbecq,  who  first 
brought  the  lilac  into  Europe  and  who  lived  three 
months  on  Halki,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  sent 
a  cargo  of  wonderful  manuscripts  into  Europe. 
I  have  been  in  the  receipt  of  many  letters  from 
American  scholars,  anxious  to  know  about  many 
missing  manuscripts.  They  are  supposed  to  be 
yet  concealed  in  the  crypts  of  St.  Sophia  or  in  the 
dusty  mosque  alcoves  in  and  around  Stamboul. 
I  have  been  besieged  to  bring  them  out  of  their 
stony  tombs  and  mummy  cerements.  It  may  be 
proper  here  to  say  that  all  such  attempts  are 
vain.  The  lost  books  of  the  Greek  classics,  frag- 
ments of  Livy  or  Pausanius  may  be  exhumed  ;  but 


GRAND    VIEW. 


I67 


my  efforts,  like  those  of  my  predecessor,  the  au- 
thor of  "  Ben  Hur,  "  have  been  in  vain.  Only  a  few 
treasures  remain  in  the  library  of  the  Holy  Trin- 
ity of  Halki.  If  the  precious  classics  were  ever 
there,  the  changes  and  chances  of  time,  war  and 
fire  have  left  of  the  "  fund  of  Metrophanos,"  pre- 
cious few  of  the  relics  which  he  gathered  with  so 
much  scholastic  zealotry. 

The  marks  of  fire  are  seen  on  the  smirched 
foundation  stones  of  the  present  edifice  of  Trinity. 
During  the  Greek  revolution,  in  1821,  the  con- 
vent was  burned.  It  was  again  built  by  the  pa- 
triarch Germain  IV.,  in  1844;  so  that  it  is  com- 
paratively new.  The  old  building  of  Phocius  was 
then  changed  into  a  theological  seminary  ;  and  so 
it  remains. 

To  reach  the  spacious  paved  courts  of  this 
Trinity  convent  we  pass  around  and  up  the 
mountain,  through  shady  woods,  whose  grounds 
are  not  cumbered,  like  those  of  Prinkipo,  with 
rocks.  When  you  attain  the  summit  you  have  the 
finest  prospect  of  sea,  sky,  isle  and  continent  I 
have  ever  witnessed.  From  the  promontory  you 
may  not  only  gaze  down  into  the  Swiss  vales  of 
the  isle,  but  off  into  the  shores  of  Asia  and  Eu- 
rope. The  great  city  of  Constantinople  seems  to 
be  nearer  and  more  resplendent  in  dome  and  min- 
aret than  from  our  villa  at  Prinkipo.  From  these 
terraces  of  Trinity  the  mountains  of  the  horizon, 


!  68  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

seen  under  their  hazy  attire,  are  lit  up  at  sunset 
with  a  glow  of  russet,  pink,  purple  and  gold  which 
would  be  anything  but  conducive  to  the  study  of 
Greek  or  metaphysics.  At  Naples,  when  evening 
paints  her  colors  upon  the  sea  and  the  isles  of  the 
bay  and  in  the  very  lustre  of  the  air,  one  must 
close  the  shutters,  in  order  to  think,  read  and 
write.  Is  it  not  a  marvel  how  the  students  of 
these  isles  can  gaze  into  recondite  lore  when 
nature  spreads  for  the  eye  such  an  illuminated  vol- 
ume of  the  good  and  beautiful? 

After  some  inquiry  we  find  a  priest  to  show  us 
the  inside  of  Trinity.  He  appears.  He  is  of  bare 
head,  of  good  face,  but  as  dumb  as  an  oyster. 
Even  our  fair  dragoman,  Admiral  Wood's  sister, 
could  not  coax  much  information  from  him.  The 
fact  is,  that  he  did  not  know  as  much  as  we  did  about 
the  convent  and  its  history.^  However,  as  he  was 
unlocking  the  church  door,  I  observe  over  its 
portals  the  sign  of  the  Trinity,  three  in  one — a  tri- 
angle, with  an  eye  in  the  centre,  symbolic  of  the 
eternal  All-seeing  One.  At  each  angle  is  the 
initial  of  the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost.  Around 
this  triangle  is  a  radiant  golden  glory.  Some 
Greek  sentences  below  tell  when  the  church  was 
rebuilt  and  by  whom.  The  words  are  of  new 
Greek  and  unknown  to  us.  On  either  side 
are  other  emblems.  One  is  that  of  an  open  book 
or  tablet  of  stone.  It  is  the  law.  On  the  other 


TRINITY  SYMBOLS  AND  OLD  PHOCIUS. 


169 


side  is  a  golden  cup  with  a  cross  above  it.  It  is 
the  sacred  chalice  or  sacrament.  In  the  vestibule 
of  the  church  is  a  strange  picture.  It  is  as  old  as 
these  emblems.  It  is  black  with  the  smoke  of  a 
million  candles  burned  from  the  ninth  century  to 
the  time  of  the  destruction  of  the  church.  It 
represents  three  angels  entertained  at  a  feast.  It 
is  the  Annunciation,  I  suppose.  Within  the 
church  are  the  same  pictures  which  are  seen  in  all 
Greek  churches,  and  which  I  have  seen  so  often  in 
Russia  and  in  Constantinople.  They  consist  of 
biblical  scenes,  from  old  chaos  and  the  creation 
down  to  the  birth  of  the  Saviour.  In  these  pict- 
ures you  will  see  reproduced  in  horrid  art  the 
Grecian  features.  The  nose  is  prominent.  In  the 
vestibule  are  the  tombs  of  many  patriarchs.  We 
are  led  to  believe  that  one  worn  smooth  by  con- 
stant walking  over  it  is  that  of  Phocius.  But  in 
the  American  mind  it  is  of  little  moment  who 
is  Phocius  to  it  or  it  to  Phocius.  Only  the 
carved  skeleton  of  old  Phocius  is  seen.  *  The 
only  living  things  about  the  convent  are  to  be 
found  in  the  library.  Here  are  books ;  and  John 
Milton  says  that  a  book  is  a  most  reasonable 
creature.  "  It  is  a  life  beyond  life, — an  immortality 
rather  than  a  life." 

Let  us  to    the    library.     There    we    are  joined 
by  a  director  of  the  college.     He  is  arrayed  in  a 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

priestly  stole,  and  his  head  is  clad  with  the  cylindri- 
cal hat,  the  rim  at  its  crown.  He  has  abjured 
the  pendant  veil  from  the  hat  for  this  occasion. 
But  like  the  typidal  Greek  priest,  he  has  a  black 
beard.  His  hair,  too,  is  long  and  curls.  It  is 
parted  in  the  middle,  and  neatly  brushed  behind 
the  ear.  He  is  courteous,  and  is  anxious  to  give 
us  all  the  satisfaction  he  can.  He  presents  us  to 
the  librarian.  Ah!  I  must  not  forget  him!  His 
name  is  Constantine.  He  has  been  here  seven- 
teen years.  He  is  seventy  years  old,  and  gray 
where  he  is  not  bald.  He  is  not  a  ready,  oral  lin- 
guist, but  here  our  fair  dragoman  comes  to  the 
front.  We  rejoice  for  an  hour  among  these  im- 
mortals of  the  alcove.  The  librarian  shows  us 
his  catalogue.  He  shows  us  books  in  fourteen 
languages.  Many  of  them  are  quite  old  and  Ori- 
ental. He  displays  many  old  manuscripts  in 
Greek.  One  Testament  is  1200  years  of  age.  It 
is  on  illuminated  parchment.  It  looks  old  and 
tired.  %  The  library  smacks  a  little  of  the  French 
Revolution,  or  of  the  encyclopedists  of  France. 
It  must  have  come  out  of  freedom  of  the  Greek 
mind,  aroused  by  the  excitements  at  the  end  of 
the  last  century.  There  is  a  goodly  company  of 
mathematicians  in  one  alcove  ;  but  most  of  the 
books  are  upon  logic.  Others  pertain  to  "the 
Fathers." 

I    asked    Constantine :    "  Have  you   no   novels 


IN  THE  L1BRAR  Y.  j  - 1 

here?      Do    your   students    never   read    fiction?" 

He  colors  a  little  as  he  replies  : 

"  I  read  all  the  time, — mostly  novels.  It  would 
be  tiresome  here  else.  One  of  the  patriarchs  died, 
and  his  niece  brought  us  quite  a  lot  of  novels  from 
his  library.  The  students  don't  read  them." 

"  How  many  students  graduated  this  year?"  I 
ask. 

"  Only  eight,  and  only  six  of  these  are  to  be 
priests  !  It  is  not  as  it  was."  He  sighs  an  ortho- 
dox sigh,  and  resumes. 

"  Ah  !  we  have  the  same  old  banquet  when  the 
young  men  go  out  into  the  world.  If  any  of  them 
do  not  become  clergymen,  they  have  to  pay  ^15 
extra  for  each  year  that  they  have  studied  here." 

Woods  Pasha  is  rummaging  among  the  old 
books.  He  finds  a  history  of  the  Sultans  in  Eng- 
lish. It  is  of  the  year  1610.  It  is  full  of  rare 
wood-cut  portraits.  He  calls  me  to  him.  He 
reads  the  first  sentence. 

"See  !  Excellence  !  what  a  race  is  here  !  What 
an  author !  He  derives  the  Turkish  race  from  the 
Tenori  (Turkish)  or  Phoenicians — the  ancestors  of 
Carthage — the  soldiers  of  Hamilcar,  Hanno,  Han- 
nibal and  Hasdrubal,  and  the  merchant  princes 
of  Carthage !  Is  not  such  a  derivation  almost 
comical  ?  " 

I  recognize  the  big  volume.  It  is  the  counter- 
part of  one  presented  me  by  Senator  Wagstaff,  of 


1/2 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


New  York,  just  before  I  left  that  city  on  my 
mission.  It  came  over  with  his  family  from  Eng- 
land some  200  years  ago  ! 

I  am  all  interested  in  the  volume.  The  ad- 
miral resumes — 

"  This  volume  goes  on  to  say  that  it  is  a  marvel 
that  from  so  small  a  beginning  such  a  power  as 
that  of  the  Ottoman  developed,  at  which  the 
world  grows  pallid — " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Admiral,  that  was  written  in 
A.D.  1610." 

But  the  admiral  grows  intensely  interested. 
He  asks  the  librarian  : 

"  If  I  should  want  to  read  or  borrow  this  book, 
can  I  have  the  privilege  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Constantine,  "  come  a-,  any  time- 
even  at  midnight,  and  you  are  welcome  to  all  we 
have!" 

I  said  to  the  gentle  bookworm : 

"  I  wonder  you  Greek  folk  never  care  in  your 
grand  ambition  to  rival  the  wandering  Ulysses,  and 
in  your  persecutions  and  trials  here  seek  an  Odys- 
sey from  the  Orient,  to  America ! " 

"  Ah  !  Excellence  ! "  said  he,  "  I  should  have 
gone  there  fifty  years  ago.  It  is  now  too  late.  I 
must  lay  my  bones  here." 

Then  I  pondered  on  a  glimpse  I  had  caught  of 
a  vagrant  sentence  in  an  open  volume  of  the 
library.  It  was  from  Dr.  Arnold.  He  says,  in  his 


IF  IT  HAD  BEEN  GREECE  ;  NO  T  ROME.  l  »« 

comprehensive  way,  that  on  the  destruction  of  the 
Athenian  fleet  in  the  harbor  of  Syracuse,  B.C.  413, 
depended  the  fate  of  the  world.  But  for  the  vic- 
tory of  Rome,  the  energies  of  Greece  during  the 
next  eventful  century  would  have  found  their 
field  in  the  West  no  less  than  in  the  East ;  and 
then  Greece,  and  not  Rome,  might  have  conquered 
Carthage.  Greek,  instead  of  Latin,  might  have 
been  at  this  day  the  principal  element  of  the  lan- 
guage of  Spain,  of  France  and  of  Italy ;  and  the 
laws  of  Athens  rather  than  of  Rome  might  be  the 
foundation  of  the  law  of  the  civilized  world. 
Syracuse  was  a  breakwater  which  God's  provi- 
dence raised  up  to  protect  the  yet  immatured 
strength  of  Rome !  The  learned  teacher  of 
Rugby  might  have  carried  his  supposition  far- 
ther, and  hung  on  his  hypothesis  the  possible  con- 
dition of  the  Christian  religion  with  a  patriarch 
instead  of  a  pope,  giving  the  canons  of  faith  to 
the  Latin  races  of  the  world  !  These  early  Greek 
fathers  of  the  church,  who  recognized  the  great 
white  Slavonic  czar  as  the  chief  father  of  their 
religion,  might  now  be  giving  ecclesiastical  and 
civil  law  to  the  majority  of  civilized  nations  ! 

There  is  a  fountain  in  the  stony  court  under 
the  broad  shade  tree.  The  antique  church,  the 
monks*  apartments,  and  the  patriarch's  chamber, 
the  scene  of  many  a  wedding  festival, — these 
with  a  prospective  marriage  ceremony,  are  in 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

reserve  for  another  visit,  for  we  shall  go  again  to 
the  theologic  college  to  drink  in  at  sunset  its  won- 
derful prospect  toward  the  north  where  Stamboul 
shines  afar. 

We  now  take  a  path  to  the  south-western  por- 
tion of  the  isle,  where  the  commercial  college  sits 
serene  at  the  top  of  another  mountain.  There 
are  no  carriages  on  the  isle,  and  yet  the  roads  up 
through  the  pine  groves  are  as  substantial,  wide 
and  clean  as  if  they  were  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
Each  of  the  pine  trees  is  a  picture,  and  the 
ground  beneath  them,  carpeted  with  the  needles 
and  cones,  makes  the  forests  here  much  more  eli- 
gible for  picnics  and  invalids  than  the  forests  of 
Prinkipo.  In  fact,  the  lay  of  the  land,  the  winding 
roads  and  by-paths,  the  seats  for  the  pedestrian 
and  lounger,  and  the  general  beauty,  surpass  our 
more  pretentious  isle. 

We  arrive  at  the  top  of  the  mountain  of,  the 
commercial  school.  Here  are  pretty  gardens. 
Here,  too>  is  a  tomb  of  much  elegance.  It  is  a 
tomb  of  a  patriarch  of  the  Orthodox  Greek 
Church.  There  is  a  tomb  of  an  English  minister 
of  Queen  Bess's  time.  He  fought  for  one  of  the 
Sultans  in  the  Danubian  country.  The  college 
is  semi-religious,  although  commercial.  Soon  we 
are  joined  by  one  of  its  directors,  and  by  the  jani- 
tor and  several  of  his  servants.  It  is  vacation. 
The  students  are  absent.  We  enter  the  court- 


A  LITTLE  "  COMMERCIAL  "  CHURCH.  l^ 

yard  and  dismount.  A  priest  with  a  pleasant 
beaming  smile — not  the  kind  of  beam  referred  to  in 
the  Scripture — brings  out  a  big  key,  and  the  an- 
cient church  is  opened.  There  is  no  troublesome 
unshoeing  or  slipping,  as  when  we  enter  a 
mosque.  It  is  a  little  church  and  quite  young. 
It  is  only  800  years  old.  It  is  black  with  age  and 
the  soot  of  burning  candles.  All  the  available 
space  in  the  two  apartments  and  even  in  the  little 
altar  room  is  filled  with  images  of  saints.  One 
saint  twice  produced,  Saint  Macarius,  has  a  long 
white  beard  that  touches  his  sandals.  Like  all 
images  in  the  Greek  churches,  these  pictures, 
hands  and  all,  are  covered  with  either  gold  or  sil- 
ver or  some  metallic  imitation.  The  faces  are  not 
covered.  They  look  out  of  the  shiny  aureoles. 
Some  rare  relics  are  here,  and  exceptionally  old 
books,  but  the  antique  effect  is  tawdry.  The 
church  is  as  neat  as  it  can  be  in  its  dress  of  lace 
and  gold.  There  are  carved  seats,  which  look  old 
in  the  dim  religious  colored  light  from  windows  of 
antique  style.  There  is  a  vitriol  lamp  burning 
before  the  Virgin.  Faded  flowers,  silver  chains, 
crucifixes,  volumes  of  the  Scriptures,  and  chants, 
—these  give  a  mysterious  awe  to  this  antique 
edifice  hid  away  in  the  mountains,  which  once 
knew  and  felt  the  power  of  the  great  Greek 
hierarchy  and  empire  of  the  East.  Tapers 
by  the  score  are  piled  up  on  a  table.  There  is 


T  -6  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

nothing,  however,  musty  in  the  little  pent-up  edi- 
fice, for  the  smell  of  myrtle  or  pine  gives  a  deli- 
cious sweetness. 

As  Pedro  talks  modern  Greek  like  a  native,  be- 
ing born  on  the  borders  of  Epirus,  we  communi- 
cate easily  with  the  priest.  We  find  him  not  only 
a  healthy  and  hirsute  person,  of  fine  physique  and 
pleasant  manners,  but  of  unusual  intelligence  as  to 
his  own  religion. 

The  director  gallants  us  to  the  long  salle  a 
manger  and  dormitory.  These  accommodate  167 
students,  and  are  as  neat  as  can  be.  We  visit  the 
library.  It  did  not  interest.  It  was  made  up  of 
Greek  and  French  books.  The  latter  are  of  the 
age  of  the  French  Revolution  or  before.  Rousseau 
lies  quietly  beside  Buffon  :  the  one  a  beast  and  the 
other  a  writer  about  beasts.  Obsolete  literature  is 
plentiful.  We  glance  at  a  globe  which  represents  the 
world,  including  our  United  Colonies  in  the  time 
of  John  Smith  of  Virginia.  Then  we  enter  a  long 
corridor,  decorated  with  sketches  of  ancient  Greeks, 
Homeric  heroes  and  fathers  of  the  church.  We 
seek  the  open  air,  feeling  as  if  we  had  been  buried. 

Again  we  mount  our  donkeys.  Sending  off  one 
of  the  gamins  to  order  our  launch,  we  go  round 
the  isle  to  the  little  bay  in  front  of  the  college, 
down  to  the  water  side.  There  we  find  a  restau- 
rant and  garden.  The  proprietor  gives  us  lemon- 
ade and  coffee,  and  a  bouquet  for  "  Madame." 


CHURCH  UNDER  GROUND.  l^ 

We  remount  to  take  a  path  through  the  forests  to 
a  little  old  church  under  ground,  cut  in  the  rocks. 
It  is  the  same  kind  of  old  church  as  the  rest,  only 
with  a  different  name.  This  is  called  "  The 
Holy  Spirit."  The  Greeks  always  have  a 
restaurant  or  tavern  near  their  religious  home,  just 
as  the  Moslem  has  a  mosque  near  his  barracks, 
or  a  fountain  near  his  mosque. 

We  do  not  find  any  person  taking  care  of  this 
" little  church  round  the  corner"  of  the  white  cliff, 
where  we  venture.  We  are  free  to  go  upon  the 
premises.  Here  is  a  bed  out  in  the  air,  and 
another  in  a  little  cave  near  the  church.  Fuel  is 
gathered  from  the  pine  trees — we  beg  pardon,  not 
"from,"  but  "  under"  them  ;  for  it  is  forbidden  to 
take  the  cones  from  the  trees,  only  those  that  fall 
are  taken.  Charcoal  is  already  binned  for  the 
winter.  Could  a  more  secluded  spot  be  found  on 
this  uninhabited  part  of  the  isle  ?  On  the  other 
side  more  than  a  thousand  people  live.  There  the 
streets  are  roomy  and  nice.  The  town  reminds 
one  of  a  town  in  Italy  or  Spain,  except  that  the 
houses  are  better  and  more  comfortable.  They  are 
of  wood.  Halki  is  a  sort  of  rival  of  Prinkipo  as  a 
health  and  summer  resort  ;  but  the  best  class  live 
in  Prinkipo.  The  rich  people  and  grand  villas  are 
in  Prinkipo.  I  cannot  help  but  conclude  that 
Halki  has  more  natural  beauty  of  site,  forest  and 
shrubbery.  Owing  to  the  scholastic  and  other 


12 


!^g  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

associations  of  Halki,  there  is  more  interest  for  the 
Greek  on  this  isle.  When  one  sees  the  remnant 
of  this  grand  race,  lifting  up  still,  though  under 
adverse  institutions  and  circumstances,  the  banner 
of  the  cross,  one  cannot  help  pondering  upon  a  his- 
tory that  began  with  the  heroes  of  Troy,  and  even 
yet  listens  delightedly  to  the  oratory  of  Delyani 
and  Tricoupis  under  the  shadow  of  the  Acropolis. 
Our  next  visit  is  to  the  church  of  St.  George. 
It  is  reached  through  the  cypress  avenues,  as 
the  picture  represents.  St.  George  seems  to  be  a 
favorite  with  the  Greeks,  especially  in  these  isles. 
The  king  of  Greece  is  popular,  not  only  because 
he  is  an  amiable  and  equitable  ruler,  but  because  his 
name  is  George.  In  a  great  many  churches  this 
saint,  who  is  of  Cappadocia  and  has  a  marvellous  his- 
tory, is  always  pictured  as  slaying  the  dragon.  In 
the  painting  at  St.  George's  monastery  and  church 
in  Halki,  .he  is  painted  as  rescuing  a  damsel  in  dis- 
tress from  the  fangs  of  the  monster.  The  artist 
has  discreetly  and  graphically  made  the  dragon 
climb  half  way  up  the  haunches  of  the  saint's  gray 
charger,  and  has  so  arranged  the  dragon  that 
George  runs  his  spear  into  his  opened  jaws' and 
clear  through  the  animal,  making  the  weapon  truly 
lethal.  It  is  not  the  pictures  of  this  church  that 
allure  the  visitor,  although  there  are  in  the  new 
church  dozens  of  pictures  of  saints  of  the  best 
Russian  art.  They  are  presents  from  Russia. 


A  RICH  CHURCH. 

But  the  situation  is  the  attraction.  The  long  dou- 
ble alley  of  cypresses,  three  deep,  leads  the  pleased 
traveller  up  to  the  monastery.  The  main  building 
is  on  a  precipitous  bluff  of  rocks.  From  its  ter- 
races and  under  its  cypresses  Prinkipo  is  in  full 
and  near  view.  It  looks  off  to  the  east  and  south. 
St.  George  monastery,  too,  has  a  history,  but 
there  is  not  so  much  of  antiquity  or  tradition  about 
it  to  give  smirch  to  its  saints  or  a  dim  religious 
light  to  its  richly  dight  windows.  It  is  rich,  how- 
ever, in  this  world's  goods.  It  is  the  proprietor  of 
some  twenty  houses  in  a  long  row  upon  the  terrace, 
above  the  cypresses.  These  it  rents.  In  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  it  was  connected  with  the  church  of 
Chalcedon.  Now,  where  is,  or  was,  Chalcedon  ? 
It  is  on  the  way  to  Constantinople,  which  we  shall 
soon  travel  in  another  chapter.  All  these  scenes 
make  us  moralize  upon  events  which  carry  us 
back  to  the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian  religion. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ANTIGONE     AND    PROTI HISTORIC    AND     OTHER 

INCIDENTS. 

THERE  is  not  much  to  be  seen  by  the  eye  upon 
the  island  of  Antigone.  But  its  classic  name 
gives  it  a  flavor  of  the  Greek,  while  its  three 
monasteries  have  a  rare,  eventful  history.  The  isl- 
and was  formerly  called  "  Panormos,"  which 
means  in  Greek  "  a  harbor  safe  on  all  sides." 
The  Turks  call  it  "  Bourgas-Ada,"  the  Island  of  the 
Fortress,  owing  to  an  ancient  fortress  which  ex- 
isted there,  but  of  which  there  is  no  trace  now. 

The  monastery  of  the  Transfiguration  is  on  the 
summit  of  the  highest  hill  of  this  island.  It  was 
pulled  down  by  order  of  the  Sultan  Murat  IV.  in 
1 720,  in  consequence  of  a  procession  with  torches 
which,  according  to  ancient  custom,  went  round 
the  monastery  on  the  night  of  Good  Friday  in 
that  year.  The  Turks,  seeing  the  lights  and  the 
commotion  from  across  at  Kadikeui,  became 
alarmed.  They  demanded  and  obtained  an  edict 
from  the  Sultan  that  the  monastery  should  be  razed 
to  the  ground.  Contrary  to  what  the  author  of  "  lies 
des  Princes  "  says,  there  are  plenty  of  ruins  and 

1 80 


MELANCHOLY  ANTIGONE. 


181 


monuments  connected  with  the  monastery  remain- 
ing, and  even  tombs  of  exiled  princes  with  the 
bones  carefully  preserved.  The  author  of  "  lies 
des  Princes  "  falls  also  into  an  unpardonable  error 
regarding  the  little  island  of  Pita,  which  he  places 
between  Halki  and  Prinkipo.  He  cannot  surely 
have  visited  the  islands  at  all  or  else  he  would 
have  known  that  Pita  is  just  in  front  of  Antigone. 
It  helps  immensely  to  make  the  little  harbor  of 
that  island  a  safe  retreat.  Pita  is  uninhab- 
ited and  has  no  interest  whatever  attaching  to 
it,  except  an  ancient  cistern  with  a  quaintly  carved 
pillar  in  the  middle.  This  shows  that  in  former 
times  the  isle  was  inhabited. 

Antigone  is  a  melancholy  isle  compared  with 
Halki  and  Prinkipo.  Is  it  because  so  lugubri- 
ously named  ?  Poor  Antigone,  the  forerunner 
of  Juliet  even  as  Haemon,  her  betrothed,  was  the 
antitype  of  Romeo  ;  for  did  she  not  sacrifice  her- 
self when  entombed  alive,  and  her  lover  kill 
himself  by  her  corpse  ? 

Every  isle  of  Greece  thus  perpetuates  some  in- 
vention or  myth  in  which  the  tragic  element 
plays  its  part.  The  birds  of  Antigone  circle  all 
about  us,  then  fly  off,  organize  into  companies  and 
battalions  and  return  to  us  with  a  wail  which 
Greek  fancy  might  translate  into  some  woful  song. 

Upon  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  beyond  the 
cliffs,  are  lanes  through  the  shubbery — lanes  for 


j  32  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

the  goat  and  sheep.  As  we  pass  beyond  the 
point  a  wreck  is  seen  with  one  mast  standing. 
The  proofs  are  written  in  the  chaotic  rocks  of 
the  shore,  of  how  earthquake  and  tempest  have 
wounded  and  shaken  the  isle.  The  colors  of  the 
rocks  are  various,  some  black  as  the  porphyry  of 
upper  Egypt,  some  brownish-red  as  the  iron  can 
paint  them,  and  some  as  white  as  snow. 

As  we  regard  it  a  duty  to  take  possession, 
pedis  possessio,  of  each  one  of  these  princely ' 
isles,  we  array  our  boat  in  greenery  and  flowers, 
and  start  upon  this  September  morning  for  An- 
tigone. The  wind  is  fresh.  The  curl  of  the 
lilies  upon  the  blue  sea  gives  us  warning ;  but  as 
the  wind,  whose  nautical  moods  I  study,  is  not 
from  the  south,  we  venture  over  the  two  miles 
of  azure.  Before  we  turn  the  point  of  Halki, 
the  ferry  from  the  city  steams  around  that  rocky 
isle.  A  wave  of  a  handkerchief  from  some  one 
on  board  indicates  that  our  capoudji  (messenger) 
from  the  Legation  is  on  board.  As  business  is 
always  before  diversion,  we  whisk  our  launch 
around  and  pursue  the  steamer  into  the  harbor 
of  Halki.  Our  Capitano  must  have  had  some- 
thing aboard  besides  his  esprit  de  corps,  for  he 
jams  our  launch  "Sunset"  against  the  side  of 
the  big  boat,  until  my  better  half  begins  to  forget 
her  duty  as  passenger  and  speaks  words  of  com- 
mand in  several  dialects  at  once  ;  and  my  Dalma- 


VISIT  TO  ANTIGONE. 


'S3 


tian  serviteur,  Pedro,  regains  his  profane  tongue, 
which  is  Italian.  We  soon  capture  our  mail- 
bag  and  messenger.  We  read  our  letters  from 
home,  fresh  out  of  the  pouch,  and  then,  ho  !  for 
Antigone  ! 

The  weather  is  a  little  hazy,  partaking  some- 
thing of  the  captain's  condition.  We  cannot  see 
the  distant  mountains  of  Asia  except  in  dim 
outline,  but  the  sun  shines  on  the  minaretted 
and  domed  glories  of  Stamboul ;  and  that  is 
enough.  Antigone  has  quite  a  population.  They 
are  nearly  all,  if  not  all,  out  on  the  pier  to 
greet  our  strange  flag ;  but  as  they  charge  a 
mejidie  (or  dollar)  if  we  stop  at  the  pier  more  than 
five  minutes,  the  Captain  makes  money  by  hailing 
a  caique  at  half  that  sum.  We  land  in  that 
little  frail  craft  and  in  a  tossing  sea.  The  crowd 
is  attracted  by  our  flag  and  the  infrequency  of 
such  a  vessel  at  the  port  of  Antigone.  Once  this 
was  quite  a  busy  commercial  place.  The 
heavy  stone  walls  of  the  harbor,  and  the  solid 
walls  of  the  villas,  red  and  black  with  iron-rust,  in- 
dicate that  formerly  here  was  a  substantial  people. 
The  drives  are  all  for  donkeys  ;  no  carnages  are 
allowed.  But  we  dispense  with  donkeys,  and  are 
content  to  saunter  upon  the  terraces,  where  we 
are  observed  by  such  members  of  the  families  of 
the  town  as  had  not  appeared  on  the  quay  to  re- 
ceive us.  Many  of  the  houses  have  elegant  ter- 


1 84 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES, 


raced  gardens.  Some  of  the  houses  are  as  quaint 
as  those  of  old  Amsterdam,  with  points,  angles,  ga- 
bles and  balconies  overhanging  the  street.  After 
some  observation  of  the  town  and  a  glance  at  the 
crowning  monastery  we  re-embark,  not  without 
a  transient  souvenir  of  the  isle.  This  consists  of 
a  huge  watermelon,  upon  whose  sides  the  Greek 
artistic  vender  has  made  two  drawings  by  scrap- 
ing the  green  rind.  The  first  sketch  is  plain 
enough  to  decipher ;  but  can  the  reader  guess 
what  the  other  one  is.  It  is  a  fire-engine,  such 
as  the  pompiers  of  the  towns  and  cities  of  the 
East  regard  as  the  refinement  of  inventive  art.  It 
is  to  be  regretted  that  I  cannot  reproduce  the 
picture  here. 

Fires  are  very  frequent  in  Constantinople  and 
its  adjacent  villages.  The  structures  are  wooden, 
dry  and  frail.  The  streets  are  narrow,  and 
therefore  the  fires  are  very  destructive.  There  is 
much  smoking  of  tobacco  by  the  Turk.  There  is 
such  a  general  use  of  charcoal  and  braziers,  such  a 
general  carelessness  in  using  the  cigarette  and 
ch^bouq^^,e,  together  with  the  matted  floors  that 
fires  are  frequent.  The  last  thing  that  I  saw 
before  I  left  Constantinople  was  the  practice  of 
the  fire  brigade  under  the  tuition  of  their  chief. 
He  is  a  Hungarian  nobleman.  He  is  providing 
modern  means  to  put  out  fires,  especially  in  Pera. 
The  little  engines,  a  caricature  of  which  suggests 


FIRE  ENGINE. 


I85 


these  incidents  and  which  the  pompiers  carry 
along  with  such  hideous  cries,  are  not  bigger  than 
the  ordinary  engines  which  we  have  to  water  our 
garden  at  home.  They  have  but  a  single  chamber. 
This  is  about  eight  inches  long  by  three  or  four  in 
diameter.  They  seem  rather  to  nourish  a  fire. 
The  firemen  themselves  are  said  to  be  selected  for 
personal  strength  and  activity, — I  should  say  for 
lung  force.  On  their  heads  they  wear  a  broad 
cap.  They  are  naked  to  their  waists. 

Do  you  ask  how  is  the  alarm  of  fire  given  ? 

I  answer :  Upon  the  elevated  Seraskierate 
tower  of  the  War  Office  in  Stamboul  there  is  a 
guard  who  watches.  When  a  fire  occurs,  he 
beats  a  big  drum,  and  shouts  wildly,  "  Wang  gin 
var"  which,  literally  interpreted,  means,  "  A  fire 
there  is ! "  This  assembles  the  firemen.  It 
alarms  the  people.  The  tower  of  Galata  is  also 
used  for  the  same  purpose  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Golden  Horn.  If  it  be  in  daylight  flags  are 
flaunted  from  the  tops  of  these  towers,  indicating 
by  their  color  and  arrangement  where  the  fire  is, 
and  by  night  other  signals  are  used  for  this  pur- 
pose. 

Before  sailing  homeward  to  Prinkipo  we  may  at 
least  glance  at,  if  not  land  upon,  Proti.  Proti  is 
the  first,  as  the  word  signifies  and  as  the  map 
shows,  of  the  nine  isles  on  the  way  from  Con- 
stantinople. It  is  by  no  means  the  last  of  the  nine 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES, 

in  historic  and  monastic  interest.  Its  houses  are 
few  and  scattered.  But  one  tree  decorates  its 
summit.  A  few  others  surround  a  house.  The 
sides  of  the  isle  looking  toward  the  city  are  scarred 
by  wave  and  storm.  It  is  not  so  attractive  nor  so 
much  frequented  as  the  sister  isles  of  Halki,  Anti- 
gone and  Prinkipo.  Whether  it  be  fire,  or  goats, 
or  man,  or  tariffs,  its  forests  are  gone.  Much  of 
its  beauty  and  all  of  its  productiveness  have  de- 
parted. How  often  have  we  to  remark  this  fact  in 
the  Orient !  Dr.  Stanley  has  said  the  same  on  the 
aspect  of  Palestine.  He  refutes  the  presumption 
of  its  limited  resources  in  ancient  days,  by  its 
present  depressed  and  desolate  state.  But  doubt- 
less the  aspect  and  advantages  of  the  land  have 
greatly  changed.  So  it  is  with  all  these  lands,  in- 
cluding the  Greek  isles  and  the  Asian  mainland. 
Asia  Minor  and  Syria  could  once  have  brought  forth 
ten  times  their  present  product  and  have  supported 
ten  times  as  many  as  their  present  population. 
This  sterility  involves  the  question  always  asked  in 
the  Orient :  "  Can  these  calcined  and  stony  places 
ever  have  been  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and 
honey?" 

Proti  is  associated  with  Halki  in  several  pretty 
narratives.  It  once  had  another  name.  Greek 
and  Turkish  nomenclature  for  places  always 
represent  some  sensible  object.  Some  of  the 
names  are  quite  poetical,  others  quite  common- 


THE   WHETSTONE  ISLE, 


I87 


place.  This  isle  of  Proti  appears  to  have  been 
formerly  styled  also  "  Acconce  "  or  "  Acconitis," 
from  the  quantity  of  whetstone  which  was  once 
to  be  found  on  it,  the  Greek  word  accona 
(Akovrj)  meaning  whetstone.  By  the  Turks  it 
is  called  "  Khinali  Ada,"  Reddish  Island.  Proti 
had  formerly  a  fine  harbor  and  populous  village 
on  its  eastern  side,  but  they  have  disappeared. 
Only  a  few  remnants  of  ruins  are  left,  among 
which  are  two  large-sized  cisterns  of  the  Byzan- 
tine period.  These  indicate  the  spot  where  the 
old  village  was  situated.  The  harbor  has  been 
washed  away  by  the  sea.  The  present  village 
occupies  quite  a  different  site. 

There  were  three  monasteries  on  this  island. 
The  smallest  of  these  monasteries  was  that  built 
by  the  Anatolian,  General  Vardane.  It  was  de- 
stroyed on  the  2Oth  of  February,  1807,  by  the 
British  fleet  under  Admiral  Sir  John  Duckworth 
and  Rear-Admiral  Lewis.  That  fleet  comprised 
ten  men-of-war.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned 
the  two-decker,  "-Endymion,"  and  the  "  Ajax"  of 
74  guns.  The  latter  caught  fire  accidentally  and 
was  entirely  destroyed.  After  forcing  the  Straits 
of  the  Dardenelles  and  destroying  part  of  the 
Turkish  fleet,  which  was  lying  at  Gallipolis,  this 
fleet  came  and  anchored  in  the  harbor  of  Proti. 
There  it  remained  eleven  days.  The  Turks,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  English  from  getting  water 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


and  fuel  from  the  island,  sent  a  small  detach- 
ment of  sixty  determined  men  from  Kadikeui, 
who,  after  some  difficulty,  succeeded  in  landing 
and  entrenching  themselves  in  the  monastery. 
The  English  landed  a  party  and  attacked  the 
monastery  to  which  they  finally  set  fire.  The 
Turks,  driven  from  their  stronghold,  offered  a  fierce 
resistance.  After  killing  a  considerable  number, 
they  at  last  drove  the  English  out  of  the  isle,  and 
before  the  latter  could  return  in  stronger  force,  the 
Turkish  detachment  was  saved  from  its  perilous 
situation  by  the  inhabitants  of  Halki,  who  came  in 
their  caiques  at  night  and  took  off  the  Turks.  In 
recompense  for  this  service  and  their  bravery,  the 
Halkiotes  were  granted  by  the  then  Sultan,  Selim, 
exemption  from  taxes,  a  privilege  which  they  con- 
tinue to  enjoy  up  to  the  present  time. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

PLATI  AND  OXIA SIR  HENRY  BULWER'S  FATAL  LIT- 
TLE ISLE HIS  DIPLOMACY  AND  HIS  ECCEN- 
TRICITIES. 

FROM  any  eminence  in  Constantinople,  upon  a 
clear  day,  two  isolated  rocks  apparently  leap  out 
of  the  Sea  of  Marmora — the  classic  Propontis. 
But  they  are  not  merely  rocks.  Oxia,  in  Greek, 
means  "late  in  the  day,"  or  "Sunset."  It  is  thus 
named  because  the  sun  lingers  last  on  its  prom- 
inence. From  one  point  it  looks  like  the  pyra- 
mid of  Ghizi.  We  have  not, yet  been  upon  it,  but 
we  have  been  around  it.  It  is  not  inhabited  ex- 
cept by  snakes.  Our  visit  is,  therefore,  reserved. 
But  we  have  accomplished  the  other  little  isle, 
Plati.  It  is  the  Oriental  custom  to  name  locali- 
ties from  some  concrete  quality,  association,  or  ob- 
ject. What  Plati  means  in  Greek  I  can  easily  sur- 
mise. Although  it  is  some  300  feet  above  the  sea 
level,  still  it  is  a  plateau.  It  can  be  cultivated 
nearly  over  its  whole  area,  which  is  at  least  150 
acres.  The  name  is  derived  from  the  Greek  word 
TrAdTy,  which  means  a  flat  or  broad  surface.  It  is 
the  same  root  for  our  word  plain,  or  plaza,  or 

189 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

plat.  Plati  is  due  west  from  Prinkipo  and  due 
south  from  Constantinople.  It  is  some  fifteen 
miles  from  the  city. 

These  twin  warders  of  the  archipelago — Oxia 
and  Plati  —  are  conspicuous  figures  in  the  sea. 
They  have  each  an  individuality,  not  merely  phys- 
ically, but  strategetically.  The  power,  whether 
Greek  or  Turkish,  that  held  Constantinople,  used 
them  as  sentinels  to  warn  of  the  approach  of  the 
Genoese  or  knightly  enemy.  Their  isolation  made 
them  capital  prisons.  Within  their  horrid  caves, 
now  used  for  cisterns,  the  convict  was  immured 
without  hope.  Sometimes  the  loose  and  aban- 
doned visited  them  for  the  worst  purposes  of  lust 
and  escapades  of  deviltry.  Pirates  sometimes  con- 
cealed themselves  there.  But  during  the  Greek 
rule,  the  Greek  Church  erected  monasteries  up- 
on them.  The  remains  of  these  are  still  seen 
upon  both  islands.  There  was  a  church,  or  oratory, 
on  Plati.  Its  debris  is  found  near  the  castle  by 
the  sea.  Several  times,  when  the  dogs  of  the  big 
city  became  obstreperous,  or  the  horses  sick,  the 
former  were  deported  to  the  rocky  and  barren 
islet  of  Oxia,  and  the  horses  there  found  their 
paradise.  In  the  place  where  the  hermits  were 
once  established,  civilization  gave  eternal  rest  to 
the  animal  creation.  Sometimes  these  isles  were 
used  as  a  target  for  the  practice  of  the  Ottoman 
naval  guns. 


OLD  DUNGEONS.  jgj 

The  oubliettes,  or  dungeons,  were  once  the 
scene  of  a  singular  freak  of  justice.  Two  eminent 
patricians  had  a  quarrel.  One  was  a  Greek,  Basil 
Bardas ;  the  other  a  Roman,  Scliros.  They 
fought  the  first  duel  recorded  in  the  Greek  annals. 
The  story  runs  that  the  Emperor  Constantine  VII. 
exiled  them — one  to  Oxia,  and  the  other  to  Plati. 
They  were  consoled,  however ;  for,  as  by  a  cruel 
irony,  they  were  placed  near  each  other,  and  one 
suffered  like  the  other !  Constantine  ordered  that 
their  eyes  should  be  put  out.  It  was  the  pleasant 
pastime  of  these  Greek  rulers  to  burn  out  the 
eyes.  But  on  this  occasion  the  Plati  prisoner  es- 
caped, and  there  was  no  adequate  compensation. 

These  isles  have  associations  more  interesting 
to  Americans  than  those  which  are  philologic,  his- 
toric, geologic,  or  aesthetic.  Plati  is  best  known 
as  the  isle  of  Sir  Henry  Lytton  Bulwer.  The  dis- 
tinguished diplomat  came  to  Turkey  after  his  ser- 
vice at  Washington  as  English  minister.  He 
followed  here  Sir  Stratford  Canning,  the  greatest 
of  the  English  ambassadors.  How  Sir  Henry 
obtained  this  isle  and  what  he  did  with  it,  and  what 
associations  cluster  about  it  in  connection  with  his 
name,  would  furnish  a  strange,  eventful  history. 
These  concern  the  biography  and  eccentricities  of 
the  man  and  the  minister,  as  well  as  the  qualities 
and  condition  of  the  isle  itself. 

There  are  those  in   Washington  who  remember 


{g2  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Sir  Henry.  The  Clayton-Bulwer  treaty  was  a  fact 
of  his  accomplishment.  Scarcely  any  public  man, 
from  Judge  Douglas's  time  to  the  present,  but  has 
taken  a  hand  in  the  discussion  of  this  treaty  and 
its  obnoxious  clause  so  inimical  to  certain  Isth- 
mian interests  and  ambitions  of  the  United  States. 
Among  the  rest,  in  an  humble  way,  the  writer 
hereof  made  a  report  on  April  16,  1880,  in  favor 
of  its  abrogation.  The  report  developed  some 
matters  not  generally  known.  It  concerned  the 
Monroe  doctrine  and  an  interoceanic  ship  canal. 
The  President  had  urged  in  his  message  the  policy 
of  the  canal  being  under  American  control.  He 
urged  the  necessity  of  such  control  as  a  part  of 
the  guardianship  of  our  coast  line.  Although 
New  Granada  in  the  railroad  franchise  of  1846, 
and  Nicaragua  in  the  Hise  treaty  of  1849,  recog- 
nized the  American  protectorate,  the  latter  treaty 
was  not  ratified  because  of  Mr.  Clayton's  alarm 
lest  a  collision  with  Great  Britain  would  follow. 
The  Mosquito  king  played  its  little,  buzzing, 
stinging  part.  Mr.  Clayton  disavowed  the  Hise 
treaty  to  the  English  minister,  Crampton  ;  but 
begged  the  English  not  to  allow  us  to  appear 
cowardly  by  the  abandonment  of  "  great  and  splen- 
did advantages."  Mr.  Clayton  begged  England 
to  give  up  her  Mosquito  protectorate  and  share 
with  us  the  authority  over  the  transit.  In  this 
awkward  way  the  negotiations  proceeded  until 


CLAYTON-BULWER  TREATY.  JQ^ 

April  19,  1850,  when  the  partnership  with  Great 
Britain  was  consummated.  This  was  done  under 
the  adroit  management  of  Sir  Henry  Bulwer. 
Both  parties  agreed  never  "to  erect  or  maintain 
any  fortifications  commanding  or  in  the  vicinity  of 
any  ship  canal,  or  to  occupy,  or  fortify,  or  assume 
or  exercise  any  dominion  over  Nicaragua,  Costa 
Rica,  the  Mosquito  coast,  or  any  part  of  Central 
America." 

England  often  violated  this  treaty.  But  why 
particularize  ?  It  is  a  long  story,  in  which  such 
statesmen  as  Cass  and  Buchanan,  Clarendon  and 
Napier,  Ousley  and  Dallas,  Clayton  and  Bulwer, 
and  recently  Clarendon,  Blaine,  and  Frelinghuy- 
sen  have  figured,  and  always  with  an  inconsequen- 
tial result  for  us.  The  subtle  crystallization  which 
Sir  Henry  Bulwer  produced  remains  like  a  wall  of 
adamant  across  the  line  of  our  policy  and  the 
Isthmus.  Our  puny  statesmen  have  tilted  in  vain 
against  this  wall  with  their  javelins  of  straw. 

The  English  employ  such  trained  diplomatists 
as  Bulwer  the  world  around.  But  his  chicanery 
and  selfishness  overtook  him  at  last.  His  Nemesis 
was  the  genius  of  Plati.  The  rock  .upon  which 
his  career  foundered  was  this  islet  to  which  the 
prow  of  our  little  launch  is  turned. 

Sir  Henry  has  left  various  impressions  here 
upon  those  who  knew  him.  I.was  not  in  Congress 
when  the  treaty  was  made.  I  do  not  remember 

'3 


i94 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


ever  to  have  seen  him  at  Washington.  He  is 
described  as  a  most  engaging  and  charming  gen- 
tleman. In  social  etiquette  and  style  he  had  no 
peer.  He  was  tall  and  thin  in  person.  His  nose 
was  hooked  and  peaked  ;  his  face  was  long  and 
grave  ;  his  eye  was  like  a  flash  of  lightning ;  his 
upper  teeth  protruded,  and  his  mouth  was  set  a 
little  awry.  Despite  these  gauckeries  he  was  not 
unhandsome.  I  fancy  that  he  was  not  unlike  his 
elder  brother,  the  great  novelist.  In  conversation 
he  was  unrivalled.  He  was  a  capital  raconteur. 
He  liked  to  emit  startling  paradoxes.  He  was  an 
admirable  speaker.  Whether  he  was  sincere  or 
not,  he  made  all  seek  his  society  and  like  him. 
His  voice  was  measured,  low,  musical,  and  per- 
suasive. He  was  most  at  home  in  intrigue.  In 
this  he  displayed  the  timbre  of  his  character.  He 
went  into  a  diplomatic  contest  con  amore,  vizor  up 
and  lance  pointed.  He  generally  pierced  the 
armor  of  his  antagonist.  He  usually  won,  for  he 
did  not  disdain  to  use  all  the  arts  known  to  the 
old  style  diplomacy,  which  he  held  was  fast  fading 
away.  Altogether  he  is  described  to  me  by  the 
physician  who  attended  him  and  by  the  captain  of 
his  yacht  as  a  most  extraordinary  and  fascinating 
man,  but  replete  with  whims,  of  which  the  owner- 
ship of  this  isle  is  by  some  accounted  one  of  the 
most  peculiar. 

He  was  ambassador  in  the  time  of  Abdul  Mejid, 


THE  FATAL   GIFT.  ^ 

whom  I  remember  seeing  on  my  trip  here  in  1851. 
No  more  worthy  Sultan,  unless  I  except  his  son, 
the  present  Sultan,  Abdul  Hamid  II.,  ever  did 
more  for  the  reform  of  his  Government  or  made 
more  sacrifices  for  the  advancement  of  civilization. 
He  is  known  in  the  East  as  the  Haroun  al  Raschid 
of  modern  times.  Sir  Henry  Bulwer  had,  there- 
fore, many  opportunities  of  aiding  effectually  in 
the  regeneration  of  the  East. 

Sir  Henry  conquered  the  good-will  of  this  Sul- 
tan of  happy  memory,  by  some  special  efforts 
about  the  succession  in  Egypt.  As  a  consequence, 
or  reward,  the  Khedive  of  Egypt  made  him  a  gift  of 
this  isle.  He  began  its  improvement.  He  erected 
the  two  castles — one  on  the  shore  and  the  other  on 
the  summit.  It  is  said  that  they  were  intended  as 
miniatures  of  his  own  ancestral  home  at  Knebs- 
worth,  England.  He  had  another  whim.  He 
thought  to  raise  cattle  on  the  island.  In  fact,  he 
stocked  it  with  some  cattle  of  the  rarest  breed. 
A  storm  of  a  fortnight,  before  the  days  of  steam 
ferries  here,  prevented  adequate  provender  from 
reaching  the  isle.  The  cattle  perished  and  so  did 
the  enterprise.  He  seldom  lived  on  the  island. 
His  wife  visited  it  frequently,  but  only  to  remain 
a  short  time.  Sometimes  with  friends  he  stayed 
over  night  and  had  a  good  time,  but  his  health 
was  infirm.  He  could  not  follow  very  far  a  cer- 
tain jocund  disposition  without  hurt  to  his  physical 


196 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


system.  He  was  odd  about  his  health.  His  doctor 
tells  me  that  he  saw  him  every  day  for  four  years, 
and  that  he  used  to  take  a  different  pill  at  the  end 
of  each  dish  at  his  meals.  It  was  one  of  his  ca- 
prices to  have  frequent  imaginary  ills  and  pills.  It 
was  the  remark  of  Guizot  about  him,  that  "if  Bul- 
wer  were  ill,  look  out !  Mischief  was  sure  to  fol- 
low his  pills."  Guizot  had  reference  to  Bulwer's 
tact  at  Madrid  in  the  matter  of  the  Spanish  mar- 
riage of  the  Duke  de  Montpensier,  son  of  Louis  Phil- 
ippe. Sir  Henry  must  have  had  a  bad  spell  about 
the  time  he  inveigled  Mr.  Clayton  to  sign  away  an 
American  protectorate  over  the  Isthmian  ways. 

How  he  used  to  chuckle  over  his  diplomatic 
triumphs  !  Some  of  them  were  won  in  Roumania 
along  with  Halil  Pacha,  a  festive  companion  and 
a  good  fellow,  a  colleague  of  Bulwer  in  Roumania. 
How  he  used  to  laugh  over  his  circumvention  of 
Mr.  Clayton  !  These  are  a  part  of  the  traditions 
and  gossip  yet  at  Pera,  which  is  called  the  ant-hill 
of  politics. 

He  had  curious  characteristics.  Sometimes  it 
was  thought  that  he  was  mean  in  money  matters  ; 
but  the  owner  of  our  launch,  Mr.  Jones,  who 
brought  out  a  steam  yacht  for  him  from  England, 
and  used  to  ship  him  about  these  isles  and  the 
Bosphorus,  tells  me  that  at  times  he  was  extrava- 
gantly and  unexpectedly  generous.  He  was  often 
timorous  of  society.  .  He  would  hide  from  his  em- 


B UL  WER'S  ECCENTRICITIES.  j g-r 

bassy  and  friends  for  weeks  at  a  time.  It  was 
his  whim  or  his  respite.  His  doctor  says  that 
once,  while  attending  him  at  Cairo,  he  insisted 
on  spending  three  weeks  with  an  old  English 
farmer  out  of  that  city,  where,  amid  the  chickens, 
donkeys,  dogs,  and  hogs,  he  was  content  to  live 
on  the  homely  fare  and  under  the  simple  cottage 
thatch  of  the  peasant,  whom  he  never  afterward 
failed  substantially  to  remember. 

It  is  a  part  of  the  reminiscences  about  Sir  Henry, 
that  while  he  was  resplendent  in  social  life  and  ex- 
quisite in  personal  taste,  he  was  not  to  be  relied 
upon.  His  word  was  not  absolute  verity.  It  was 
not  exactly  unveracity.  It  was  imagination,  all 
compact.  It  was  a  desire  to  please.  He  was 
princely  in  his  entertainments.  After  he  was  no 
longer  ambassador  here,  he  returned  on  some 
speculative  mission.  He  held  the  same  old  high 
carnival  daily  and  nightly  with  his  epicurean 
friends.  What  he  did  to  embarrass  the  American 
missionaries  here  I  do  not  exactly  know.  It  had 
some  reference  to  the^  American  (Robert)  College. 
Its  then  President,  Dr.  Hamlin,  in  his  book,  han- 
dles him  without  gloves.  He  held  him  to  be  as 
destitute  of  public  probity  as  he  was  of  private 
morality. 

As  Dr.  Hamlin  was  outspoken  as  to  this  person- 
age, I  may  quote  what  he  says,  in  his  published 
volume  : — 


198 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


"  The  case  of  the  college  was  at  length  laid  be- 
fore Sir  Henry  Bulwer.  He  was  a  man,  of  no  prin- 
ciple ;  but  he  knew  that  to  carry  the  measure 
would  get  him  credit  in  England.  He  took  hold 
of  it  with  the  intention  of  carrying  it  through. 
After  a  long  time,  and  wearisome  delays,  he  wrote 
me  a  note,  saying  that  the  question  was  decided, 
and  that,  within  three  days,  I  should  have  leave  to 
go  on. 

"  I  next  received  a  note  from  him,  telling  me  that 
I  had  made  an  unwise  and  inconsiderate  bargain, 
in  purchasing  that  place,  and  the  consequences 
should  justly  fall  on  my  own  head.  He  saw  no 
reason  why  the  English  Embassy  should  have  any 
further  trouble  with  regard  to  it ! 

"  It  was  a  treachery  so  base  that  I  made  no  reply 
to  it,  and  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  Sir  Henry 
Bujwer.  I  felt  curious,  however,  to  know  the  rea- 
son for  such  a  sudden  facing  about.  Nor  was  it 
at  all  difficult  to  find. 

"  He  had  received  a  magnificent  'gift'  from  the 
Pasha  of  Egypt,  with  a  request  that  he  would  ar- 
range some  important  and  pressing  affairs  with 
the  Porte. 

"  Another  was  sent  to  the  Countess  G ,  one 

of  Sir  Henry's  mistresses,  and,  of  course,  he  un- 
dertook the  Pasha's  business.  Among  the  condi- 
tions made  by  A'ali  Pasha,  in  return,  was,  that  he 
should  throw  that  college  question  overboard 


HIS  OLD-TIME  DIPLOMACY. 

which  he  accordingly  did,  as  not  worth  a  moment's 
consideration.  It  is  a  good  specimen  of  Sir 
Henry's  character.  In  similar  circumstances  he 
would  have  thrown  overboard  any  English  inter- 
est with  equal  coolness." 

As  an  illustration  of  the  morale  of  the  diplomacy 
of  Sir  Henry  Bulwer,  let  me  record  a  fact.  In 
May,  1860,  Prince  Gortschakoff  addressed  a  circu- 
lar to  the  great  powers  of  Europe  as  to  the  condi- 
tion of  the  Christians  in  the  Balkan  peninsula. 
It  suggested  inquiry  to  verify  the  facts,  so  as  to 
bring  about  some  amelioration.  Sir  Henry  drew 
up  a  list  of  the  questions  which  he  sent  to  the  Brit- 
ish consuls  throughout  the  Empire.  He  accompa- 
nies it  with  a  circular  of  his  own.  In  this  he  inti- 
mates the  way  in  which  he  expects  the  consuls  to 
answer.  As  a  sample  of  his  shrewdness,  not  to 
say  old-time  diplomacy,  in  his  circular  of  the  8th 
of  August,  1860,  the  following  passage  occurs: 

"  Your  conduct  in  this  crisis  will  be  duly 
watched  by  me,  and  my  opinion  whether  favorable 
or  the  reverse,  communicated  to  Her  Majesty's 
government." 

This  threat  had  its  commentary  in  the  action  of 
one  unfortunate  consul.  He  failed  to  receive  the 
circular,  and  wrote  too  plain  spoken  a  report.  He 
afterwards  apologized  for  it  when  he  saw  the  cir- 
cular, and  wrote  a  second  destroying  the  effect  of 
the  first. 


200  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

This  lack  of  private  morality  is  not  treasured 
against  him  so  much  as  the  lack  of  public  honor. 
Of  his  acquisition  and  disposition  of  this  rocky 
islet  there  is  much  said.  After  the  isle  was 
given  him,  Sir  Henry,  in  1854,  spent  $75,000  in 
its  so-called  improvement.  He  did  not  keep  it 
long,  but  somehow,  in  some  peculiar  circuitous 
way,  he  resojd  it  for  a  round  sum  to  the  then 
Khedive  of  Egypt,  Ismael  Pasha,  who  yet  lives  as 
the  best  or  worst  type  of  a  millionaire  who  has 
wrought  a  great  fortune  out  of  the  misfortunes  of 
his  country. 

One  of  the  stories  which  remains  as  to  this  isle 
is,  that  when  Lord  Lyons  was  appointed  in  Sir 
Henry's  stead  as  ambassador  here,  he  called  on 
Lord  Palmerston  at  the  Foreign  Office  in  Lon- 
don to  receive  his  instructions.  After  they  were 
given,  Lord  Lyons  took  his  leave,  saying  : 

"  My  lord,  is  there  anything  else  you  can  say 
as  to  Turkish  affairs  and  my  duties  ?  " 

Lord  Palmerston  replied  "  No." 

Lord  Lyons  said  "  Good-by.  " 

As  he  reached  the  door  and  was  about  to  make 
his  exit,  Lord  Palmerston  called  out : 

"  My  lord  !  Yes  !  One  thing  I  forgot.  Never 
own  an  island  !  " 

It  was  this  island  of  Plati  to  which  Palmerston 
referred.  It  lost  Bulwer  his  place,  for  he  sold  it 
for  a  large  sum  to  a  party  interested  in  his  ser- 


THE  LA  UNCH  IN  NE  W  TOILE  T.  2Q j 

vice.      He  lost  his  office  by  the  indelicacy  of  the 
transaction. 

Now  that  we  know  the  later  history  of  the  isle, 
let  the  launch  steam  up.  Ho!  for  Plati !  Let  us 
see  what  are  the  graces  of  the  isle  which  attracted 
and  outwitted  the  clever  diplomatist. 

Before  we  dash  away  from  the  scala  let  us  take 
an  observation  or  two.  With  a  good  glass  the 
two  castles  upon  this  rocky  islet  are  visible  from 
Prinkipo.  We  make  preparations  to  launch  out 
for  it  and  lunch  on  it.  Our  Dalmatian  serviteur, 
Pedro  Skoppeglia,  prepares  the  latter,  while  our 
Maltese  Capitano  Vincenzo  takes  the  rudder  in 
hand  and  gives  his  order. 

The  launch  is  newly  upholstered.  It  looks  as 
gay  as  a  jaybird.  The  cushions  have  been  newly 
covered,  and  the  flag  looks  its  prettiest.  The 
sea  is  quiet.  No  white  horses  are  capering  over 
its  smooth  azure  surface.  A  few  fishermen  are 
dropping  their  nets.  They  look  picturesque  in 
their  red  sashes,  baggy  breeches  and  fez  caps. 
They  are  half  Greek,  half  Ottoman.  A  few  ships 
lie  at  anchor  in  the  harbor.  The  Asian  coast,  with 
its  mountain  curves  on  the  north  and  east,  is  faintly 
lined  against  a  sky  which  has  but  a  few  fleeces  of 
clouds  in  the  east,  hiding  the  snowy  tops  of  the 
Mysean  Olympus.  The  sea  is  intense  in  its 
azure,  except  where  there  are  rich  bands  of  green, 
and  the  gulls  sit  like  white  flowers  on  its  bosom. 


202  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

The  water  is  as  clear  as  a  fountain  in  July  when 
one  "  sees  each  grain  of  gravel."  Lake  Tahoe,  in 
Nevada,  is  not  more  lucent  than  this  water  of  the 
Propontis.  A  gentle  breeze  ripples  it  with  sun- 
shine, and  makes  a  myriad  of  glittering  dia- 
mond points  which  decorate  its  blue  robe.  A 
few  caiques  ^^  feluccas  with  white  wings  are  in 
the  distance,  whose  horizon  is  stained  here  and 
there  with  the  Cardiff  coal  smoke  emitted  from 
the  steamers  bound  from  Constantinople  to  the 
Dardanelles. 

What  a  picture  is  that  to  the  northward ! 
Stamboul,  like  an  odalisque  in  her  yashmak  of 
finest  tulle,  seems  to  emerge  from  the  blue  deep. 
Like  a  picture  of  Turner,  a  semi-ideal  glimpse  of 
Venice  or  some  weird  mirage  of  Orientalism,  it 
seems  a  fairy  city  of  the  sea.  It  is  set  on  seven 
hills,  and,  although  a  dozen  and  more  miles  off,  it 
looks  as  unreal  as  if  woven  by  unseen  fingers  in 
aerial  looms — an  unsubstantial  dream  of  a  country 
that  never  was  on  sea  or  land,  which  "  great- 
browed  Homer  ruled  as  his  demesne." 

My  wife  suggests  a  possibility  of  fishing  at 
Plati,  or  on  the  way.  At  once  we  are  environed 
by  a  picturesque  group.  We  choose  a  four-oared 
caique  with  a  canopy,  and  two  sturdy  Greeks. 
The  caique  itself  is  a  picture.  On  its  inside  is  a 
clean  floor  covered  with  Turkish  rugs  of  rich  col- 
ors. The  wood-work  is  stained  with  golden  hues. 


VIEWS  FROM  THE  SEA.  ^ 

The  outside  is  of  green,  red  and  white,  daintily 
dashed  or  strewn  with  flowers  not  inartistically 
painted.  You  cannot  tell  stern  from  bow,  so 
airily  tip-tilted  are  the  graceful  ends  of  the  boat. 
Our  lines  and  bait  are  ready.  We  take  a  turn  in 
the  harbor  with  the  launch,  which  was  named  by 
its  owner,  Mr.  Jones,  from  whom  it  was  leased,  in 
honor  of  a  pet  name  I  have  heard  frequently : 
"Sunset."  Then  we  take  the  caique  in  tow  and 
leave  the  quay  with  much  £clat. 

Before  we  leave,  let  us  take  a  glance  at  the  old 
town,  with  its  bath-houses  and  stone  quays.  What 
is  that  moving  object  far  off  to  the  Asian  shore  ? 
Is  it  a  duck  or  a  seamew ?  The  glass  reveals  it! 
It  is  an  amateur  in  a  flatboat,  with  paddles,  which 
the  man  deftly  plies.  Our  little  screw  gives  a  few 
saucy,  splashy  turns,  for  the  admiration  of  the 
fishermen  and  Greek  gamins  of  the  quay,  and  we 
are  off  for  the  west,  — America-ward  !  Halki  is 
neared.  Her  big  yellow  barracks  by  the  shore, 
with  the  Turkish  naval  school,  her  Greek  the- 
ological college  on  the  northern  summit,  and 
her  wooded  and  lovely  curved  mountains,  resem- 
bling a  Mexican  saddle  or  an  inverted  caique 
—these  detain  the  eye,  but  not  the  launch. 

A  breeze  springs  up  as  we  pass  the  hotels 
Calypso  and  Giacomo  on  the  craggy  shore  of 
Prinkipo.  The  superb  villas  which  crown  the 
bluffs  are  on  our  left.  The  breeze  starts  the  pris- 


2O4 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


matic  windmills  in  motion.  The  flag  over  the 
Azarian  water  tower  is  our  own  star-spangled 
banner.  It  kisses  the  breeze,  and  we  salute  the 
starry  emblem.  Boys  are  swimming  in  the  bay. 
The  mountains,  nearly  to  the  top,  seem  to  sway 
in  the  wind  with  their  pines.  The  pretty  nooks 
and  twisted  rocks  of  the  shore,  the  gardens  pro- 
fuse in  scent,  flower  and  rare  trees  pass  by  as  if 
we  are  indeed  in  dream-land,  with  pleasure  domes 
magically  evoked  out  of  sleep.  Soon  we  pass  on 
the  south  side  of  Halki.  Its  rocks  are  broken, 
cavernous,  and  precipitous,  as  if  lashed  by  a  thou- 
sand storms.  Along  this  south  side  of  Halki  is 
a  beautiful  harbor.  We  pass  round  point  after 
point  of  Halki,  until  between  Halki  and  Antig- 
one there  opens  a  vista  scarcely  credible  for 
its  loveliness.  Chatak-Dagh,  the  highest  moun- 
tain of  the  mainland  of  Asia,  is  in  our  rear,  1500 
feet  high.  It  fills  the  gap  which  we  look  through. 
The  shore  line  and  mountains  make  a  landscape 
over  which  and  through  which  there  hangs  an 
interpenetrating  lustre  and  distant  unveiling  which 
would  make  Bierstadt  wild  with  artistic  enthusi- 
asm. These  isles  take  on  a  different  dress  when 
observed  from  the  sea. 

We  forget  to  look  at  yonder  avenue  of  cypresses 
on  Halki.  They  lead  up  to  another  famous  mon- 
astery, where  many  a  Greek  exile  has  been  housed 
and  many  a  marriage  ceremony  has  been  per- 


CLASSIC  SURROUNDINGS.  2Q- 

formed.  The  rocky  ledges  of  Antigone,  near 
which  we  now  sail,  are  rugged  and  lofty.  They 
are  not  devoid  of  trees,  which  give  garniture  to 
their  sides  and  ledges.  Here  sea  birds  live  in 
great  numbers.  As  we  turn  to  look  back  again 
the  dark  coves  of  Western  Prinkipo  are  revealed, 
and  beyond  the  southern  end  of  Prinkipo,  little 
Niandro  lies,  almost  in  ambush,  at  the  feet  of 
St.  George's  mountain,  which  looms  up  as  if  it 
would  rival  Olympus,  whose  head  is  shrouded 
in  the  white  clouds  anchored  over  the  Mysean 
mountains. 

Now,  if  we  could  keep  right  on,  on,  on,  where 
would  we  land  ?  Get  the  map  and  see.  It  strikes 
me  that  we  would  strike  Lemnos  isle,  to  which 
the  Empress  Irene  was  banished  when  it  pleased 
her  lord-treasurer  to  show,  his  harsh  authority 
over  the  murderous  mother  whose  bones  lie  some- 
where on  the  Isle  of  Prinkipo.  Or  if  we  missed 
Lemnos,  going  due  west,  we  would  come  up 
against  the  coast  of  Thessaly,  and  almost  under 
the  shadow  of  that  other  and  more  classic  Olym- 
pus as  to  which  there  is  much  to  be  said  when  the 
roll  of  Homer's  heroes  is  called. 

Our  boat  turns  now  to  the  isle  of  Bulwer — Plati. 
It  looks  near,  say  five  miles.  I  strive  to  sketch 
its  outlines,  for  its  exterior  seems  as  yet  only  a 
blank  rock.  Its  castles  are  dimly  lined  and  neb- 
ulously white.  We  look  back.  Great  shadows 


206  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

from  white  fleeces  of  clouds  are  moving  over  the 
Asian  shore,  and  old  Olympus  has  not  yet  come 
out  of  his  tabernacle.  The  wavering  line  of  the 
Asian  shore  to  the  south  is  pencilled  on  the  edge 
of  the  horizon.  It  soon  vanishes  around  Mo- 
dena's  gulf  and  is  lost  in  the  sea. 

Passing  the  checkered  and  streaked  cliffs  of 
Halki  and  Antigone,  noting  the  walls  here  and 
there  to  prevent  land  slides  and  excavations  from 
which  iron  and  copper  have  been  taken,  observing 
the  clean-tilled  brown  and  red  earth  which  the 
olive  and  cypress  ornament,  smelling  the  scented 
shrub  or  machie  which  gives  its  fragrance  to  the 
air,  we  turn  again  to  look  back ;  and  lo !  St. 
George's  monastery,  on  southern  Prinkipo,  is  a 
white  dot  on  the  green  eminence.  We  pass  the 
southern  shore  of  Antigone  and  note  upon  the 
narrow  shingly  beach  the  men  who  hunt  birds, 
steal  their  eggs,  and  gather  oysters  or  some  other 
crustacce,  which  abound  on  these  shores.  They 
have  boats.  We  run  close  to  the  beetled  crags, 
colored  and  speckled  like  the  increase  of  Jacob's 
flocks,  while  here  and  there  are  big  boulders  held 
aloft  in  the  arms  of  stout  rocks  which  frost  and 
earthquake  have  tumbled  from  the  scarred  moun- 
tain sides.  Antigone  rises  sheer  500  feet.  Her 
side  is  full  of  caves.  What  are  those  white  flowery 
specks  mingled  with  the  rock  and  greenery  ?  We 
soon  ascertain,  for  have  we  not  discovered  and 


BIRD  LIFE. 

aroused  the  gulls  and  cormorants  that  here  nestle  ? 
They  come  out  of  their  nooks  by  the  thousand, 
and  keep  up  such  a  clamor  that  it  seems  like  the 
angry  protest  of  a  bird  mob  against  the  invasion 
of  their  haunts  by  our  launch. 

These  are  the  birds  which  make  Marmora  and 
the  Bosphorus  so  full  of  life,  even  when  the  hot 
air  silences  all  other  noise  and  motion.  They  are 
never  disturbed  or  killed  by  the  inhabitants. 
They  have  a  monopoly  of  the  isle.  They  are 
gentle,  as  all  inhabitants  of  the  isle, — which  is 
named  after  the  heroine  of  Sophocles, — should  be. 

This  tameness  of  the  birds  is  not  limited  to  the 
Island  of  Prinkipo.  All  through  the  mosques  and 
groves  and  walls  and  gardens  of  the  old  city  of 
Stamboul  you  hear  a  universal  twitter  and  the 
fluttering  of  wings  which  indicate  the  life  of  the 
birds.  The  sparrows  fly  in  and  out  of  the  houses. 
The  swallows,  which  seemed  partial  to  my  presence, 
fix  their  nests  in  every  convenient  arch  in  and  out 
of  the  bazaars.  The  pigeons  are  maintained  by 
many,  and  have  a  mosque  of  their  own  named 
after  them.  The  gulls  rival  in  number  the  turtle- 
doves, the  one  having  dominion  of  the  air  and 
the  other  of  the  woods  and  cemeteries.  The 
halcyons  fly  in  long  ranks  up  and  down  the  Bos- 
phorus, as  if  restlessly  intent  on  some  very 
earnest  business  ;  while  the  grave  and  dignified 
stork  sits  upon  the  towers  of  Anatolia  and  Rou- 


2o8  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

melia,  and  upon  the  cupolas  of  the  grand  mauso- 
leums. The  Turk  never  harms  these  birds. 
Every  bird  has  a  little  office  of  trust  which  it  exe- 
cutes for  this  wild,  reckless  and  sanguinary  Turk. 

Now  we  steer  direct  for  Plati.  Its  profile  is  a 
semicircle.  It  has  dark  gaps  in  its  sides.  There  is 
a  white  building  on  its  shore  and  another  on  its  sum- 
mit. A  few  more  whirls  of  the  "Sunset's"  screw 
and  there  is  revealed  the  two  Anglo-Saxon  castles. 
No  houses  yet  appear.  The  smaller  sister,  Oxia, 
is  more  like  a  pyramid.  In  fact,  it  is  about  twenty 
times  as  large  as  the  pyramid  of  Ghiza,  but  not  so 
symmetrical.  As  we  draw  near  it  takes  on  a  rough 
aspect.  These  twin  isolated  rocks,  as  we  approach, 
become  quite  tall  and  roomy.  I  should  say  that 
Plati — Bulwer's  Isle — is  at  least  a  mile  in  circuit. 
Looking  to  the  north-west  there  appears  in  dim 
outline  the  European  coast.  The  white  specks 
are  the  houses  of  San  Stefano.  There  the  famous 
Turco-Russian  treaty  was  made,  and  there  the 
Russian  army  lay  in  wait  ready  for  a  spring  at,  and 
into,  Constantinople. 

As  we  approach  the  little  isle  the  haze  lifts. 
The  desert  of  blue  water  is  oased  by  a  splen- 
did ship  in  full  sail,  bearing  the  Greek  ensign. 
It  moves  like  a  vision  of  beauty  and  leaves 
no  cloud  upon  the  sky.  It  hides  between  the 
isles  we  have  passed,  then  reappears.  It  is  mov- 
ing toward  Modena,  which  is  the  port  of  the 


WELCOME    TO  PL. ATI.  2OQ 

ancient  capital   of    the  Ottoman    at   the    foot    of 
Olympus. 

Now  we  are  within  a  hundred  yards  of  Plati, 
but  as  we  cannot  land  in  the  launch,  we  embark 
on  the  caique  with  the  fishermen,  and  are  rowed 
into  a  little  cave,  where  we  are  saluted  by  the  sen- 
eschal of  the  castle.  He  is  an  old  man,  an  Arme- 
nian, George  by  name.  His  last  name  is  the  last 
thing  we  inquire  for.  Every  one  here  goes  by 
the  Christian  name,  even  the  Turks  !  The  castle 
is  then,  indeed,  inhabited.  Its  towers  and  walls 
have  a  relict  radiance  of  past  glory.  As  we  enter 
the  chief  room  an  enormous  chandelier  attracts  at- 
tention. Then  the  fresco  of  the  walls,  the  mosaic 
of  the  floors,  and  the  tessellated  pavements  of  the 
courts  all  speak  of  occupation  and  sudden  decay. 
Everything  is  quiet.  No  birds  sing  :  not  even  a 
cicada  chirps.  Not  a  ship  or  boat  is  in  view. 
The  sea  is  still.  It  seems  like  that  primeval  time 
before  the  winds  were  loosed  from  their  caves. 
The  water  glistens  and  glows  under  the  July  sun. 
The  haze  clears  away  almost  entirely.  The  city 
of  Stamboul  rises  out  of  the  blue  elements.  The 
minarets  and  cupolas  of  the  mosque  of  Sulieman- 
yeh — the  best  specimen  of  the  Osmanli  structural 
genius — and  the  minarets  and  dome  of  stately 
Sofia,  seem  to  gesture  upward  and  swell  with  new 
grandeur.  Turning  to  the  east,  every  one  of  the 
nine  isles  are  marked  in  clear  outline,  except  little 
14 


2  j  0  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Pita,  which  plays  hide  and  seek  behind  Antigone, 
and  Andirovitha,  which  lies  prone  like  the  dragon 
under  the  shadow  of  St.  George  of  Prinkipo.  The 
clouds  still  enshroud  Olympus  on  the  south,  but 
the  outline  of  the  Asiatic  coast  is  becoming  more 
definite. 

The  lower  castle  is  much  the  larger.  It  has 
many  chambers — reception  rooms  with  fireplaces, 
as  if  it  might  have  been  comfortable  in  winter. 
One  of  the  rooms  is  a  large  frescoed  hall.  It  has 
various  bookcases,  but  no  books,  only  painted  titles. 
They  give  added  mockery  to  this  shell  of  a 
castle.  Here  is  "The  History  of  Mehemet  Ali ; " 
there  the  "  Histoire  des  Arabes;"  yonder,  Rob- 
inson's "  Palestine,"  and  again  here  D'Ohsson's 
"  Tableau  d'Empire  Ottoman."  Over  a  Turkish  in- 
scription I  find  one  most  characteristic  volume, 
contents  omitted — "  Notes  of  Machiavelli  and 
Montesquieu." 

After  looking  about  the  castle  on  the  shore,  we 
mount  the  hill  by  a  path.  We  are  conducted  by 
the  Armenian.  He  tells  us  that  he  farms  the 
property  and  that  that  is  his  consideration  for 
being  its  chdtelain.  I  ask  :  "  Do  you  make  any- 
thing out  of  it?" 

"  Some  years  a  little.     Not  much  this  year." 
"  How  many  hands  do  you  employ  ?" 
"We  have,"  he  replies,   "eight  persons  on  the 
island,   including  my  boy  here,  Antoine,   and  my 


THE  CASTLES.  2II 

wife,  who  keeps  house  in  the  upper  castle.  The 
other  men  are  flailing  the  oats  now  and  caring  for 
the  six  cows  and  one  bull." 

The  path  to  the  upper  castle  had  once  been  laid 
out  with  skill  and  fringed  with  flowers,  '^^fleur- 
de-lis  has  left  its  remnants  here  on  the  borders. 
We  pass  old  fig-trees  that  never  fail  to  live  where 
there  is  a  mouthful  of  dust,  a  few  olive,  ash,  and 
locust  trees,  remains  of  old  buildings,  oratories, 
convents,  and  kiosks,  and  pedestals  of  carved  mar- 
ble and  broken  heads  of  columns,  doubtless 
ravished  from  old  temples  and  never  worked  into 
the  projected  architecture.  Then  we  stand  in 
front  of  the  main  castle.  It  is  surrounded  by  foli- 
age. It  has  even  in  its  ruin  a  fairylike  look. 
"  Perhaps  in  this  neglected  spot "  Sir  Henry 
hatched  many  a  diplomatic  .egg,  or  revelled  in 
many  a  bout  with  his  attache's  and  friends. 

There  is  a  little  touch  of  the  Arabic  in  the 
Gothic  of  the  building  which  destroys  its  unity. 
Large  rocks  and  boulders  lie  about  its  esplanade. 
Sheafs  of  grain  are  stacked,  and  some  maize  and 
melon  patches  are  on  the  terraces. 

The  building  above  is  not.  so  stately  as  the 
castle  by  the  sea,  but  it  is  in  better  preservation 
and  is  prettier.  The  rocks  are  clad  in  a  red  lichen  ; 
and  vines  in  good  condition  are  ;n  eligible  places. 
Here  and  there  are  garden  spots,  in  which  are 
gourds,  pistachio  nuts,  melons,  artichokes,  and 


212 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


tomatoes  in  good  growth.  But  the  business  looks 
as  if  it  had  gone  to  seed  ;  so  do  the  peasants,  in 
their  Turkish  fez,  red  Greek  sash,  and  baggy 
breeches.  The  only  healthy  and  handsome  gentle- 
man on  the  isle  is  the  bull.  We  come  upon  him 
unexpectedly.  He  makes  a  quiet  remark  in  his 
own  tongue,  upon  which  I  retreat  suddenly.  I 
am  happy  to  see  that  he  is  tethered  to  a  stake,  which 
he  could  not  pull  up,  by  a  chain  he  cannot  break. 
His  five  cows  serenely  chew  their  cuds,  and  give 
no  sign  of  surprise  at  our  presence  near  the  harem. 
We  stand  in  front  of  the  castle.  The  chdt- 
elaine  appears.  She  is  not  romantic  nor  pretty, 
but  polite.  The  two  men  stop  their  flail  and 
come  down  the  circular  steps  that  lead  to  the  por- 
tal above.  On  this  circled  terrace  are  trees  of 
luxuriant  growth  and  tangled  vines  in  flower. 
The  front  of  the  palace  has  its  windows  and  doors 
arched  with  brown  and  white  stone  from  Chios. 
The  floors  within  the  rooms  are  of  marble  mosaic, 
and  are  not  yet  disarranged  by  neglect.  The  ceil- 
ings of  most  of  the  rooms  are  low,  and  where  the 
rain  has  not  entered,  are  as  clean  as  when  just 
frescoed.  There  are  mirrors  all  about,  in  the  din- 
ing, library,  and  other  rooms.  The  colored  glass 
gives  a  dim  religious  light  to  the  chambers.  But 
the  feature  of  these  apartments  is  the  imitation 
book-cases.  These  are  cupboards,  but  their  doors 
are  neatly  painted  with  the  binding  and  titles  of 


SHELL  OF  A  LIBRARY.  2l$ 

works  of  all  kinds.  This  seems  to  have  been  the 
ruling  passion  of  Bulwer — this  outside  display  of 
literature.  I  ask  George  to  open  one  of  the 
book-cases.  Ostensibly  it  was  a  library  of  vol- 
umes on  the  English,  French,  German,  and  Turk- 
ish ciiisine.  He  opens  it,  and  a  lot  of  bottles 
filled  with  the  vin  du  pays  appear.  This  evokes 
a  smile  all  round ;  but  George  does  not  tender  us 
a  perusal  of  the  contents  of  these  brittle  books. 
Here  are  books  entitled  "  Wine  Drinkers," 
"  Geography,"  and  "  Metaphysics."  Over  one 
door  of  this  library  is  written  in  French:  "// 
faut  vivre  avec  ses  amis."  Over  another  is  the 
same  motto  in  Turkish.  It  seems  strange  that 
Bulwer  should  seek  such  a  secluded  spot,  where 
friends  could  rarely  come,  and  where,  if  the  tradi- 
tions are  correct,  he  was  rather  limited  in  his  se- 
lection by  number  and  sex.  What  a  commentary 
these  chambers  furnish  of  the  elegant  man  of  the 
world — this  type  of  the  accomplished  strategist 
in  the  wiles  of  diplomatic  war ! 

Upon  these  marble  floors  lie  piles  of  oats 
and  broken  straw  for  the  kine,  while  the  sound  of 
the  flail  keeps  time  where  the  golden  bowl  used 
to  flow  and  the  viands  of  the  epicure  were  wont 
to  steam.  Now  the  common  vegetable  used  for 
the  peasant's  soup — called  sobitha — a  kind  of  seed 
or  nut,  is  spread  in  one  room,  while  in  another  the 
worm-eaten  wooden  floor  has  lost  its  power  even 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

of  storage.  Upon  these  desolations  the  soft  hues 
of  the  stained  archways  give  a  melancholy  lustre, 
which  the  mirrors  yet  unbroken  on  ceiling  and  on 
wall  reflect  in  multiform  shapes.  Some  pictures 
are  in  the  salle  a  manger,  but  they  are  not  as  fresh 
as  those  I  saw  on  the  tombs  of  Egypt,  four  thou- 
sand years  old. 

We  pass  up  a  stairway  of  white  marble, 
which  is  perfect,  and  the  only  perfect  piece  of 
work  remaining.  Streaks  of  white  light  here  shoot 
through  the  round  windows.  Here,  too,  is  another 
illusory  library.  One  cupboard  has  a  lot  of  suppos- 
ititious volumes  entitled,  "  Is  Wine  Beneficial  ?  " 
another  in  German — "  Drunken."  Secret  recesses 
repeat  these  illusions.  Here,  over  the  bedstead, 
in  an  alcove,  is  a  case  of  "  Rfoes " — Dreams  ! 
The  bedstead  is  elegant,  but  the  family  of  the 
Armenian  peasant  sleep  upon  the  coarse  quilt 
which  covers  its  gilding.  Over  the  fireplaces  are 
volumes  of  "  Day  Dreams,"  another  of  "  Visions." 
The  outlook  over  the  castellated  terrace  up-stairs 
shows  the  superb  sea  in  its  ultramarine  robe,  and 
Stamboul  the  Beauteous !  The  upper  rooms 
are  hot  and  close.  Some  of  the  doors  are  screens 
of  flowers  in  applique,  upon  cloth,  picturing  vine, 
leaf,  and  grape  upon  both  sides. 

These  rooms  are  painful  to  behold,  like  the 
wreck  of  a  proud  man  in  the  glory  of  his  youth. 
Upon  the  floor  below,  in  one  of  the  rooms, 


TANGLES  OF  TIME.  215 

there  lie  the  disjecta  membra  of  an  alabaster  vase  of 
proportionate  elegance,  and  chased  with  the  vine, 
leaf  and  fruit.  I  asked  George  if  he  thought  the 
ex-Khedive's  agent  in  Constantinople  would  sell 
this. 

"Yes,  he  would.  In  fact,  it  had  been  once  sold 
to  an  American,  but  he  had  never  taken  it  nor 
paid  for  it.  Ali  Effendi,  at  Kioskontak,  on  the 
Bosphorus,  is  the  agent.  See  him  !  " 

We  passed  out  into  the  court.  It  is  not  large, 
say  100  feet  square.  It  has  a  fountain,  but  no 
water.  It  has  flowering  shrubs,  but  their  scent  is 
wild,  as  if  the  tangle  of  time  had  deprived  them  of 
sweetness.  Weeds,  weeds,  weeds — all,  an  epitome 
of  the  life  of  their  former  owner.  Some  of  the 
walls  are  tumbling  down,  and  have  props,  but  the 
arches  spring  perennially  beautiful  in  their  various 
stones  from  the  island  home  of  Homer.  The 
general  color  of  the  building  is  white,  so  that  the 
stains  of  time  and  weather  are  plainly  apparent. 
Still  the  towers  remain,  and  the  castellation  is 
clean  cut  against  the  sky. 

The  best-preserved  portions  of  the  castle  are 
the  stables.  They  are  quite  roomy.  What  did 
Sir  Henry  want  of  horses  on  so  small  an  isle  ?  I 
stumbled  over  an  old  grist  stone  made  to  grind 
the  grain — as  old  as  that  which  Mungo  Park's  ne- 
gresses  used  when  he  was  investigating  Africa — 
the  counterpart  of  that  which  is  seen  in  Egypt  to- 


2I6  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

day.  I  can  understand  its  utility  here  in  this 
lonely  place.  There  are  fishers'  nets  lying  about 
in  which  my  feet  are  entrapped.  Their  raison 
d'etre  is  also  apparent,  for  Marmora  is  the  sea  for 
fish  par  excellence.  I  can  appreciate  the  pleasure 
terrace  beyond  the  palace,  looking  west,  for  here 
the  sentimental  diplomat  of  the  Bulwer  type  could 
profitably  muse  as  he  looks  off  toward  sunset 
and  Washington,  where  his  Clayton-Bulwer  treaty 
is  still  discussed.  I  can  appreciate  also  the  garden 
of  figs  and  melons  between  this  terrace  and  the 
western  end  of  the  isle — a  wild,  incongruous  ro- 
mance on  durable  rock ;  for  have  we  not  regaled 
ourselves  upon  the  fresh  fig  and  the  delicious  mel- 
ons ?  I  can  imagine  a  utility  in  the  little  lizard 
which  flashes  into  the  sunlight  out  of  the  rocks,  to 
give  my  wife  an  ejaculatory  surprise.  Even  the 
snails  which  cling  to  the  shrubbery  have  their  use,  if 
only  as  a  bait  for  fish.  I  can  well  imagine  why  the 
kitchen,  with  its  ovens  and  wood-house,  is  separated 
from  the  castle,  and  which  still  has  its  use  as  a 
chicken-house.  The  old  petroleum  cans  that  lie 
around  have  their  use  as  buckets.  I  can  under- 
stand the  compensation  which  a  place  of  this  iso- 
lated kind, — so  full  of  remoteness  from  the  "  cries 
of  the  people  who  do  come  and  go,  " -—furnishes  to 
the  jaded  intellect  and  the  palled  taste  of  the  hot 
and  stifling  city.  I  need  not  read  Ruskin  to  give 
emphasis  to  the  utility  of  beauty,  such  as  this  pano- 


UTILITIES  AND  INUTILITIES.  2  1 7 

rama  establishes,  with  breezy  fretwork  upon  the 
blue  sea,  and  its  inspiration  drawn  so  closely  from 
the  fountains  of  nature.  But  I  cannot  fancy  what 
on  earth  Sir  Henry  could  want,  on  such  an  isle,  of 
such  stable  room  for  a  great  stud  of  horses,  who 
could  not  caper  very  nimbly  here  without  falling 
off  into  the  Marmora  sea. 

Perhaps  the  solution  is  found  in  the  Quixotic 
spirit  which  erected  these  castles  in  such  an  out- 
of-the-way  spot,  or  perhaps  in  the  spirit  of  some 
of  the  mock  volumes  whose  titles  I  read  in  the 
lower  castle  halls,  as,  ''Themes  on  the  Impossible," 
or  "  L' Advantages  de  la  Lune  et  du  Soleil  Com- 
pares," or  "  Charmes  du  Manage  par  un  Gar£on 
de  80  ans ; "  for  in  their  different-colored  bindings, 
blue,  red,  and  green,  these  odd  and  outre"  titles  to 
textless  books  render  them  pretty  toilets  to  the 
eye  which  thirsts  for  the  realities  which  are  not 
within. 

I  said  nearly  every  object  here  indicates  de- 
cay. There  is  an  exception  in  front  of  the  castle. 
It  is  a  good  has  relief  of  St.  George  and  the 
Dragon  and  an  elegant  monogram  of  "  H.  L.  B." 
This  cipher  is  all  that  remains  to  attest  the  per- 
sonality of  the  accomplished  diplomatist,  who,  in 
making  these  structures,  built  more  than  a  Spanish 
castle.  The  figments  of  his  brother,  Sir  Edward 
Lytton-Bulwer,  and  the  poetry  of  the  son  ("  Owen 
Meredith  "),  who  glorified  Florence  Nightingale  by 


2i8  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

a  song  as  sweet  as  that  melodious  bird  itself  can 
sing,  have  left  their  permanent  impressions  upon 
our  time.  But  these  ruins  of  mortar  and  stone, 
glass  and  wood,  have  no  meaning  except  to  mark 
the  swift  decadence  of  the  statesman  who  erected 
them,  and  of  the  fall  from  power  of  the  ex-Khe- 
dive, Ismail  Pasha,  who  owns  them. 

Thus  moralizing,  we  take  our  way,  after  making 
remuneration  to  the  Armenian  keeper  for  his  po- 
liteness in  showing  us  the  realities  of  these  castles, 
which  seem  from  the  Bosphorus  and  from  the  other 
isles  like  unreal  chateaux  en  Espagne,  or  castles  in 
the  air.  We  find  at  the  landing  the  good  launch 
"Sunset"  sitting  like  a  bird  upon  the  sea,  impa- 
tient to  show  off  her  brand  new  flag  to  these  ward- 
ers of  this  once  strange  diplomatic  chateau.  Our 
ambitions  take  a  more  apostolic  turn,  and,  forget- 
ting diplomacy  and  its  eccentricities,  we  steam  over 
the  clear  blue  water  to  Antigone  with  our  fishing 
caique  in  the  wake.  There  we  enter  the  caique, 
and  fish  for  grand pois 'sons,  while  the  launch  darts 
around  the  isle  for  the  sustenance  of  our  bodies, 
i.e.,  lunch.  What  we  caught  is  nothing  to  nobody. 
But  we  brought  home  a  splendid  many-hued  string 
of  memories  with  all  the  flavor  and  zest  of  castle 
building,  without  the  glamour  of  antiquity. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PRINKIPO    AS  A   HERMITAGE CLOISTERED    AMENITIES 

A    RICH    LIBRARY. 

"THERE  is  the  making  of  a  monk  in  every  man," 
says  Miss  Cleveland,  in  her  essay  on  monasticism. 
As  its  complement,  it  might  be  said  that  there  is 
the  making  of  a  nun  in  every  woman.  Man  is 
more  than  half  a  recluse.  More  than  half  the 
time  he  prefers  to  be  cloistered.  Certainly,  if  he 
have  studious  or  contemplative  tendencies,  and 
had  the  opportunities  and  books,  he  would  not 
mind  much  isolation  from  his  fellows.  John  Bun- 
yan  and  Cervantes  could  fill  up  their  time  delight- 
fully, even  in  jail.  Men  in  these  Eastern  climes 
have  sought  and  yet  seek  the  cave  and  the  monas- 
tery. When  the  world  palls,  or  ambition  is  slaked, 
or  the  passions  are  paralyzed,  men,  and  women 
too,  seek  diversion  in  the  hermitage.  This  oc- 
curred to  me  when  I  first  looked  at  my  Prinkipo 
"  Castle  of  Indolence,"  and  isolation.  I  was  ready 
to  say,  as  I  looked  at  the  enchantment  of  shore, 
sea  and  sky  :  "  Here  is  Nature's  grace  !  Here  are 
the  open  windows  of  heaven  !  Here  dawn  and 
eve  color  the  vault  and  deck  the  blue  waves. 

219 


22O 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


Here  are  cosy  nooks  and  seats  of  vantage,  far  from 
public  work  and  resort.  Here 

"  Let  health  my  nerves  and  finer  fibres  brace, 
And  their  toys  to  the  great  children  leave ; 
Of  fancy,  reason,  virtue,  nought  can  me  bereave." 

After  a  visit  to  the  hermit  of  Halki,  I  was  more 
than  ever  disposed  to  bless  my  stars  that,  for  a 
time  at  least,  I  had  the  privilege  of  a  home  remote 
from  all  worldly  associations,  and  even  from  the 
usual  noises  and  excitements  of  the  isle.  After  a 
little,  however,  my  sociality  began  to  assert  itself. 
The  little  children,  the  very  dogs,  chickens  and 
donkeys  evoked  it.  Within  our  villa  and  garden 
there  were  few  or  no  intrusions.  I  was  content  to 
dream  and  read,  to  read  and  write,  until  ordered 
up  the  mountain  for  a  sanitary  stroll. 

When  I  came  to  this  villa  my  first  adventure 
was  to  the  library.  The  son  of  the  proprietress 
had  been  crowned  at  Cambridge,  England,  as  first 
in  classics.  His  library,  though  not  large,  was 
pleasing  and  select.  I  remembered  what  Caliban 
had  said  of  Prospero  in  the  Isle  of  "The  Tem- 
pest:" 

"  Remember  to  possess  his  books  !  " 

I  had  practised  on  this  Shakesperian  edict.  One 
of  my  victims  was  our  city  landlord.  I  levied  on 
him  before  I  began  to  prey  on  the  villa  library. 


MISSIRIE  'S  LIBRAR  Y.  22  j 

That  is  why  and  how  I  had  become  master  of  a 
library  of  my  own. 

The  hotel  most  famous  in  Constantinople  is  the 
Hotel  d'Angleterre.  It  used  to  be  kept  by  Mis- 
sirie.  The  soldiers  in  the  Crimean  war  called  his 
hotel  "  Misery."  My  experience  in  1881  was  that, 
since  it  has  been  kept  by  the  Greek,  Logothetti,— 
"word-bearer," — it  was  well  kept.  I  had  then  the 
best  room,  overlooking  the  Bosphorus  and  the  Sea 
of  Marmora,  and  I  ought  to  have  been  content. 
It  was  not  misery.  I  was  content 

In  rummaging  around  in  the  old  and  odd  places 
of  the  hotel  I  found  that  travellers  to  the  East  for 
fifty  years  had  left  books  and  what  not,  and  that 
they  were  gathered  in  the  dusty  holes  and  recon- 
dite shelves  of  the  hotel.  I  used  to  spoil  my  clean 
linen  by  exploiting  these  places  for  literary  spoil. 
One  book  which  I  found  was  the  volume  of  an  Aus- 
trian secretary  at  Moscow,  quite  confidentially  giv- 
ing a  narrative  of  naked  facts  about  Peter  the  Great 
and  his  diabolism.  Only  one  other  copy  of  the 
work  was  ever  found.  That  one  was  discovered 
by  Eugene  Schuyler  at  Naples.  The  rest,  in  the 
interest  and  honor  of  the  Czars  and  their  regime, 
had  been  destroyed. 

On  my  return  to  Constantinople,  in  1885,  I 
went  rummaging  again.  I  found  that  volume 
gone.  Making  a  bargain  with  M.  Logothetti,  I 
"  launched "  off  to  Prinkipo  quite  a  lot  of  these 


222  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

waifs.  They  are  before  me.  Here  is  one  !  It 
has  on  its  fly-leaf  the  name  of  Lady  Mary  Wort- 
ley  Montagu.  But  can  it  be  her  signature?  If  it 
were,  it  would  be  doubly  enhanced.  It  is  only  a 
Gazetteer  of  the  "known  world"  in  1815,  with  "im- 
provements" by  Dr.  Brookes,  of  London.  It  is 
printed  for  J.  Burnpus.  It  opens  with  a  map  of  the 
world  of  1815,  from  the  "best  authorities."  The 
imaginary  and  abstract  lines — like  the  poles  and 
circles — are  in  the  map,  in  geometric  symmetry ; 
but  between  Capricorn  and  Cancer — the  goat  and 
the  crab — in  Africa,  is  "  Negro-land," — avast  space. 
There  is  hardly  a  name  between  that  of  "  Hot- 
tentot" and  "  Barbary."  What  a  filling  of  space, 
since  by  the  De  Brazzas  and  the  Stanleys,  by  the 
Spekes,  Livingstones,  and  Bakers  ! 

Among  the  definitions  of  this  Gazetteer  is  this  : 
"  That  a  hill  is  a  small  kind  of  mountain  !"  This 
remarkable  book  begins  with  four  "  Aa's."  They 
are  rivers  in  Samogitia,  Picardy,  etc.  It  ends 
with  Zytomicrz — a  town  in  Poland, — but  pasted  at 
the  end  of  the  zeds,  is  a  poem  whose  last  verse  is : 

"  And  woman — woman  ever  bright  ! 
I  loved  thee  most,  when  least  sincere." 

The  Gazetteer  spells  Michigan,  Michagan ;  Chi- 
cago as  a  river  or  village  is  not  even  named. 
Turning  mechanically  to  the  word  "  Limburg,"  the 
Gazetteer  says :  "  It  is  the  place  for  excellent 


OLD  GAZETTEER. 


cheese."  "  Limestone,  or  Maysville,  Ky.,"  is  in 
the  catalogue.  Pennsylvania  is  celebrated  for 
neither  coal,  iron,  nor  oil  ;  but  for  potash,  furs, 
skins,  and  wax.  Philadelphia  —  the  Turks  call  it 
Allahhijah  —  had  then  only  two  thousand  Chris- 
tians. I  beg  pardon  ;  that  is  the  old  Philadelphia 
near  Smyrna,  where  there  was  one  of  the  seven 
churches.  The  capital  of  Penn's  State  is  said  by 
Mr.  J.  Bumpus,  to  have  grown  so  fast  that  in  the 
lifetime  of  the  first  person  born  in  it,  it  contained 
forty  thousand  people.  As  my  mother  was  born 
there,  it  was  not  exactly  a  city  of  brotherly,  but  of 
motherly  love  ;  and  I  am  proud  to  have  it  said  in 
the  Gazetteer  that  it  is  near  New  York  and  has  a 
magnificent  State-house  and  a  Philosophical  hall. 
Illinois  is  set  down  as  a  river  in  Indiana.  New 
Haven  is  celebrated  for  its  card-teeth,  college,  and 
buttons.  Ohio  is  a  State  with  five  districts,  of 
which  New  Connecticut  is  one.  There  are  "  no 
slaves  "  there.  Marietta  is  its  largest  town  ;  but 
Chillicothe  is  the  capital.  Massachusetts  is  well 
watered  and  produces  plenty  of  maize,  hemp,  and 
copper  !  It  has  a  machine  for  cutting  nails,  —  in- 
vented by  Jacob  Perkins,  —  which  makes  200,000 
nails  a  day  !  That  State  makes  1,900,000  gallons 
of  distilled  spirits  a  year  !  New  York  State  has 
wheat  for  its  staple  and  abounds  in  fine  lakes. 
The  city  of  New  York  is  fifteen  miles  in  length, 
but  hardly  one  in  breadth.  It  has  "  no  basin  or 


224  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

bay  for  the  reception  of  ships,  but  the  road  where 
they  lie  in  East  river  is  defended  from  the  terrific 
violence  of  the  sea  by  some  islands,  which  inter- 
lock each  other  !  "  What  a  commentary  on  Long, 
Staten,  and  other  islets,  and  Hell-gate  and  its 
dynamitic  thunders  and  forces  !  Is  New  York 
equipped  for  education  and  goodness  ?  Yes.  It 
has  "a  noble  seminary  called  Columbia  College 
and  a  magnificent  edifice  called  Federal  Hall, 
where  the  illustrious  Washington  took  the  oath ! 
It  has  a  botanical  garden.  In  time  of  peace  it  has 
commerce  !  In  time  of  war  it  is  insecure.  It  has 
no  marine  force. 

Philippi  is  recorded  in  the  Gazetteer  only  as  a 
town  in  Macedonia.  It  is  not  said  that  Cassius 
and  Brutus  met  there  at  a  cross-roads  grocery  to 
drink  the  health  of  Augustus  and  Antony,  before 
Christ  some  forty-two  years.  Of  China  it  is  said 
that  it  excels  in  kitchen-gardens  and  cultivates  the 
bottom  of  its  rivers.  It  has  trees  on  which  is 
raised  tallow  !  The  Chinese  complexion  is  a  sort 
of  tawny  ;  and  those  who  are  thought  to  be  most 
handsome  are  the  most  bulky.  The  Chinamen 
affect  pomposity,  but  their  houses  are  low.  The 
empire  existed  before  Noah's  flood.  They  drink 
a  liquor  called  ft  rack."  It  is  not  added  what  kind 
of  a  racket  it  makes  when  exported  into  such 
unknown  realms  as  Wyoming  and  California ! 
Is  California  gazetteered  ?  Yes.  It  is  put  down 


CURIOUS  CHANGES.  22* 

as  a  peninsula.  It  is  separated  from  the  coast  by 
the  Vermilion  sea.  Of  this  my  friend  the  pub- 
lisher and  learned  author,  Bancroft,  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, will  take  heed.  Galvez  found  a  pearl  fish- 
ery in  its  gulf — I  reckon  —  of  Colorado.  He 
found  mines  of  gold  of  a  very  promising  appear- 
ance. Most  Californians  use  a  girdle  and  a  piece 
of  linen  for  clothing;  but  further  north  the  Cali- 
fornians use  shells  for  ornament  and  live  in  caves. 
Its  chief  town  is  St.  Juan,  which  makes  a  wine  like 
Madeira. 

Saratoga  is  a  town  and  a  fort.  It  is  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Hudson.  Not  to  be  prolix,  the 
United  States  itself  is  summed  up  in  this  Gazet- 
teer— as  seventeen  States.  They  are  well  sup- 
plied with  rivers,  great  and  small,  springs,  and 
lakes.  In  the  large  towns  the  houses  are  of 
brick ;  in  the  others  and  their  environs,  of  planks  ; 
but  eighty  miles  from  the  sea,  in  the  Central  and 
Southern  States,  seven-tenths  of  the  inhabitants 
live  in  log  houses.  These  houses  are  made  of  the 
trunks  of  trees.  They  are  from  twenty  to  thirty 
feet  long  and  four  or  five  inches  in  diameter. 
They  are  laid  upon  one  another  and  support  their 
ends  into  each  other.  The  spaces  between  the 
trunks  are  filled  with  clay.  They  have  two  doors, 
which  are  hung  with  wooden  hinges.  These 
doors  frequently  supply  the  place  of  windows. 
Neither  nails  nor  iron  of  anv  sort  are  used. 
15 


226  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

All  this  was  long  before  the  rivalry  between  Chi- 
cago, Cincinnati,  and  St.  Louis. 

To  one  interested  in  our  census  since  1810  this 
Gazetteer  makes  a  picture  of  contrasts  interesting 
and  economic. 

"  The  chinkin'  and  daubin' "  of  even  the  log 
cabins  of  the  1840  campaign  seem,  to  one  who  has 
passed  through  our  civil  war,  as  quite  a  rearward 
object  of  domestic  architecture. 

Comparing  this  description  with  that  of  Con- 
stantinople in  the  Gazetteer,  how  great  the 
changes !  These  changes  indicate  civilizing  ener- 
gies even  in  the  capital  of  Turkey.  The  descrip- 
tion of  Constantinople  almost  suits  its  present  con- 
dition ;  but  not  quite.  Its  towers  and  walls — its 
castles  and  multitudinous  houses — are  the  same  ! 
St.  Sophia,  with  its  room  for  100,000  worshippers, 
remains.  The  seraglio  burned  down  some  twenty 
years  ago.  A  railroad  now  runs  around  those  old 
walls,  out  of  which  the  odalisqites  of  Abdul  Mejid 
peeped  thirty  years  ago,  when  I  first  saw  it.  The 
bazaars  are  the  same.  The  Jewish  and  Armenian 
traders  are  the  same;  but  the  "great  number  of 
girls  from  Hungary,  Greece,  Circassia,  and 
Georgia,  for  the  service  of  the  Turks,"  have 
greatly  diminished.  The  ambassadors,  now  as 
then,  live  on  the  Pera  side  of  the  Golden  Horn  ; 
but  the  fifty  thousand  graceful  caiques  no  longer 
ply  upon  the  Bosphorus  for  general  transporta- 


CHANGES  IN STAMBOUL.  ~~~ 

227 

tion.  The  Shirket  company  runs  steam  ferries 
up  and  down  the  straits,  and  the  azure  sky  is 
stained  with  their  coal  soot  and  smoke.  A  car, 
run  by  an  endless  chain  and  by  the  vapor  of  water, 
lifts  the  passenger  from  the  shore  at  Galata  to 
the  top  of  Pera  heights.  A  street  railway  plies 
its  work  and  sounds  its  horn  not  only  upon  the 
newly-widened  streets  of  Pera,  but  even  in  the 
narrow  streets  of  Stamboul,  upon  whose  travel  or 
travail  there  look  out  of  the  jalousies  of  the  Mos- 
lem the  beauties  of  the  haremlik ! 

Outside  of  the  great  city  are  the  same  treeless 
hills  and  furrowed  vales.  Here  and  there  they 
are  green  and  laughing  with  cultivation,  and  not 
unspeckled  with  the  splendid  black  and  white 
sheep  and  goats  of  the  suburbs.  As  far  as  the 
eye  can  see,  the  glorious  panorama  of  mountain 
and  water,  with  the  grand  prospect  of  domes, 
minarets,  palaces,  armories,  arsenals,  and  barracks, 
is  spread  out  for  the  wondering  and  admiring 
gaze.  The  old  commanding  situation  for  com- 
merce and  empire  remains,  and  will  ever  remain. 

The  same  Eastern  imbroglio  continues,  from  the 
same  old  motives,  from  the  same  great  and  greedy 
powers.  Gradually  the  European  elements  are 
encroaching  upon  Asiatic  features  and  policy.  It 
may  be  that,  before  the  new  century  dawns,  the 
dreams  of  Peter  the  Great  will  be  realized  ;  or 
else  that  the  Greek — under  some  noble  impulse, 


228  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

and  from  consenting  and  non-conflicting  elements, 
—may  resume  his  worship  in  St.  Sophia  and  his 
control  from  the  palace  of  Blachernae.  It  may 
be  that  the  capital  of  old  Byzantium  will  become  a 
free  port.  All  this  is  problematical,  for  the  Turk 
may  remain  under  better  conditions.  Eastward 
the  star  of  empire  may  take  its  way,  even  though 
it  glimmer  within  the  horns  of  the  crescent. 

But  I  was  rummaging  in  my  villa  library  among 
the  lost  tribe  of  books  of  the  old  Missirie  hostelry. 
It  is  the  same  as  ever — as  in  all  libraries ;  for  all 
libraries  when  analyzed  have  their  chance  compan- 
ions. Here  is  a  learned  treatise  by  Lord  Lindsay 
on  "  Christian  Art,"  with  its  symbolism  and 
mythology,  written  originally  for  "  Sir  Coutts  Lind- 
say, Baronet."  It  is  said  to  have  wings  for  the 
artist  to  the  gate  of  heaven !  Its  uncut  volumes 
are  as  clean  as  the  subject;  never  having  been 
other  than  idealized  by  the  sacred  quality  of  the 
author's  mind.  Next  to  these  volumes  is  Eugene 
Sue's  "  Martin  the  Foundling."  It  has  his  por- 
trait in  the  French  toilet  of  1847.  The  book  is 
illustrated  by  Shepherd.  It  shows  the  prevalent 
taste  in  unchristian  art  and  literature  four  decades 
ago.  Hallam  next  kisses  George  Eliot's  "Gipsy." 
Plans  of  fortifications  for  Crimean  struggles  lie 
dormant,  next  to  books  on  the  peace  of  Christ— 
which  passeth  all  understanding — of  their  proxim- 
ity. Hepworth  Dixon  bounds  into  the  arena, 


PL  ORE  NCR  NIGHTINGALE  AND  SO  YER.  2  2Q 

along  with  a  dozen  books  of  highly-colored  litho- 
graphs showing  the  "  Dawnings  of  Light  in  the 
East !  "  A  score  of  volumes  descriptive  of  all  the 
lands  and  peoples  from  Bagdad  to  Carthage,  with 
here  and  there  love-tokens  sent  as  bookmarks,  and 
flowers  from  Bethlehem,  whose  faint  odors  are  all 
too  emblematic  !  Mitford's  full  volumes  on  Greece 
sit  down  with  "  Gentle  Elia,"  Bulwer's  "  Rienzi," 
Tom  Moore's  "  Lalla  Rookh,"  Cicero,  and  "  Eo- 
then. "  But  who  spreads  the  feast  for  these  ana- 
chronistic people?  Who?  Why,  the  very  prince 
of  the  cuisine  himself.  Soyer  makes  a  "  culinary 
campaign,"  which  he  calls  historical  reminiscences 
of  the  late  war  (Crimean),  with  the  plain  art  of 
cookery  ! 

This  culinary  champion  was  a  confederate  of 
Florence  Nightingale  in  the  campaign  which  she 
made  against  the  evils  of  war,  in  the  hospitals  of 
Scutari.  In  this  volume  he  dishes  up  many  his- 
torical delicacies.  He  makes  up  in  succulence  of 
detail  what  he  lacks  in  literary  proficiency !  Per- 
haps no  one  in  that  singular  war  achieved  more 
reputation  than  this  great  chief  of  the  kitchen. 
He  was  a  practical  man.  When  not  organizing 
his  suite  in  the  hospital  kitchen  for  the  disabled 
and  wounded  soldier,  he  was  purveying  in  a  kind- 
lier office.  That  his  life  was  not  entirely  fruitless 
of  good,  his  volume  fully  demonstrates  ;  for  after 
his  laborious  campaign,  in  bidding  adieu  to  his 
readers,  he  says  : 


230 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


"  I  do  not  intend  to  remain  Soyer  Tranquille, 
but  I  hope  to  be  the  means  of  causing  a  lasting 
amelioration  in  the  cooking  for  all  public  institu- 
tions. Such  a  result  of  my  labors,  after  my  long 
culinary  experience,  ought  to  make  an  author 
happy  indeed,  and  I  hope  for  the  future  to  be 
found  as  traced  below."  Here  follows,  as  the  curi- 
ous finale  of  a  useful  and  benevolent  life,  his  own 
picture,  as  he  sits  felicitously  over  a  glass  of  Cha- 
teau Yquem,  in  some  celestial  cuisine  above  the 
stars  ! 

All  through  this  odd  volume  of  Alexis  Soyer 
Miss  Nightingale  sings  her  quiet  music  of 
humanity — so  sweet  amid  the  sensual  palate  pleas- 
ures, that  "we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  it." 

From  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  and  from  all  the 
aeons  of  time  come  forth  from  Missirie's  dusty 
volumes  these  controversial,  didactic,  military, 
theologic,  descriptive,  cuisinistic  and  classic  folk 
— dressed  in  garbs  as  various  as  those  which  make 
the  Stamboul  bridge  a  perpetual  kaleidoscope ! 
Here,  in  Misery's  hotel — as  some  one  has  sung, 
but  whose  music  I  cannot  recall  in  verse — here  the 
rage  of  controversy  ends  ;  zealots  become  friends, 
Socinians  abide  with  Calvinists,  and  those  other 
Calvinists  or  Kismetians  of  Mohammed  meet 
Catholic  and  Quaker  and 

"  Bellemarine  has  rest  at  Luther's  feet. " 


ORIENT  PEARLS.  2 1 1 

I  am  forbidden  by  my  wife  and  other  powers  to 
write  for  publication  on  political  and  social  themes 
pertinent  to  this  capital  of  diplomacy.  Having, 
however,  the  cacoethes  equal  to  any  Scotchman,  I 
must  be  writing  something  at  odd  moments.  If  I 
cannot  make  literature  of  a  higher  grade,  may  I 
not  take  glances  at  those  who  have  been  creators 
of  that  order  of  work  ? 

It  is  difficult  to  find  any  "  Orient  pearls"  not 
already  discovered  and  strung.  And  yet  these 
wonderful  seas  and  waters  ought  to  be  gemmed  at 
bottom :  but  where  one  wo~uld  find  pearls  he 
only  gets — sponges !  It  takes  away  my  breath 
when  I  think  of  trying  to  write  of  some  new  thing 
here.  Or,  to  keep  to  the  metaphor,  as  in  the 
pearl  fisheries  of  the  Red  Sea,  I  am  not  unlike  the 
diver  who  does  not  often  obtain  the  pearls,  but, 
reckless  of  sharks  and  death  otherwise,  he  is  con- 
tent with  filling  his  lungs  for  three  minutes  and 
loading  his  feet  with  a  stone,  and,  dropping  his 
ballast,  to  arise  with  one  oyster,  whose  pearl  is 
not  always  equal  to  the  effort  and  occasion. 

Yet  what  a  sea  for  pearls  of  thought — pearls  of 
great  price — is  this  Mediterranean,  which  through 
divers  ways  leads  up  to  this  capital  of  capitals  ! 
The  Mediterranean  is  called  by  the  Turks  the 
White  Sea.  It  is  blue,  but  cheerful  as  the  white 
light  of  unclouded  day.  It  is  tideless,  but  what 
tides  has  it  not  witnessed  in  the  affairs  of  men 


232 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


—taken  at  the  flood  by  some  and  at  the  ebb 
by  others  ?  It  is  the  sea  of  historic  movements 
as  well  as  of  musical  cadences.  Troy,  Carthage, 
Byzantium,  Athens,  Rome,  Alexandria  -  -  ever 
romantic  and  commercial,  classic  and  barbaric ! 
Over  its  waters  Crusaders  came ;  amid  its  isles 
Venetian  and  Genoese  sailed.  Now  upon  its 
bosom  steamers  of  Russia,  Austria,  France  and 
England  ply  with  ceaseless  interchange.  But  an 
American  vessel  with  the  star-spangled  banner- 
never. 


"  SOYKR  TRES  HEUREUX  !  " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    LIBRARY    UNDER    NEW    ASPECTS. 

Again  the  precept  of  Shakespeare  is  heard : 
"  Remember  to  possess  his  books." 

Without  them,  Prospero  had  not  one  spirit  to 
command  !  When  I  made  the  lease  of  this  villa 
there  came  into  our  possession  all  the  lore  of  the 
Cambridge  scholar,  much  of  which  was  all  Greek 
to  me,  especially  the  modern  Greek.  It  was  my 
custom  in  the  morning,  when  .the  air  was  cool  and 
fresh,  to  promenade,  book  in  hand,  up  to  the  half- 
way seat  on  the  mountain  side.  >  Here  I  could 
read  undisturbed.  Here,  I  re-read  Homer,  not 
merely  in  English,  but  in  the  original,  with  much 
marking  and  remarking  between  the  lids  of  my 
scholarly  landlord's  copy. 

The  confessions  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  were 
found  in  this  library,  lying  close  to  some  religious 
Armenian  literature.  I  perused  them  for  the  first 
time  under  these  skies, — where  Rousseau's  father 
used  to  live  and  work  too,  as  watchmaker  to  His 
Majesty,  the  Sultan!  How  strangely  this  senti- 

233 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

mental  yet  gross  Franco-Swiss  philosopher,  with 
his  love  of  nature  and  nastiness, — his  amours  and 
his  amiableness — impresses  one  !  His  style  is  so 
lucent  and  his  artlessness  so  absolute,  that  one 
need  not  wonder  that  his  social  theories,  arrayed 
in  alluring  garb,  caught  the  fancy  and  enthralled 
the  emotions  of  his  time. 

By  adding  some  of  my  own  favorite  volumes  to 
these  bookish  anchorites  of  our  villa,  I  have  read- 
ing enough.  I  can  accomplish  more  than  Home 
Tooke  did  when  he  was  in  prison  ;  for  not  only 
have  I  the  "  Diversions  of  Purley"  in  studying 
radically  many  tongues,  but  I  can  delve  literally 
into  the  old  earth  herself,  with  Rousseau,  in  search 
of  medicinal  roots,  to  gratify  my  botanic  fancies. 

Besides  having  the  launch  and  the  free  sea, 
the  flag  and  "  interterritoriality,"  I  am  as  un- 
hampered as  the  botanizing  bee  or  butterfly  in  our 
garden,  that  flies  from  flower  to  flower  at  its  own 
sweet  will.  But  this  freedom  of  motion  is  not  the 
idea  of  a  hermitage. 

One  of  the  precious  little  diamonds  in  literature, 
which  was  presented  to  me  by  a  D.D., — whom  we 
call  the  "  Dreadful  Dragoman,"  is  that  of  P.  Gyllii, 
on  the  "  Topographia  of  Constantinople."  Its 
frontispiece  has  the  imprimatur  and  flavor  of 
Munich.  It  was  printed  in  1632.  It  is  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  old.  Two  angels  in  the 
frontispiece  draw  up  two  curtains  between  classic 


DIVERSIONS  IN  THE  LIBRAR  Y. 

columns,  in  order  to  display  the  old  city  with  its 
mosques  and  khans.  Beneath  is*  a  picture  of  the 
Seraglio  Point.  The  houses  were  far  apart  then, 
and  the  foliage  abundant.  The  same  kind  of 
boats  float  on  the  current  as  those  of  the  present 
day.  It  is  a  picture  of  the  city  under  the  Sultans 
in  its  primal  splendor. 

I  must  not  omit  a  glance  into  an  unpretending 
volume  by  Edward  Bulwer-Lytton,  which  illus- 
trates the  institutions  of  ancient  Athens.  If  it  be 
not  accurately  historic,  it  is  provocative  of  the 
study  of  Mitford,  whose  nine  volumes  have  each  a 
significant  picture,  a  rich  text  and  learned  notes. 
Bulwer  not  only  illustrates  the  matchless  genius 
and  glory  of  Greece,  but  the  interesting  struggles 
which  her  states  carried  on  in  these  colonial 
waters,  upon  whose  bosom  to-day  ride  steamers 
which  the  classic  Greek  with  all  his  fleet  Mercuries 
and  potential  Neptunes  never  imagined.  Some  of 
his  chapters  and  scenes  take  me  to  the  very  boun- 
daries of  Bulgaria,  where  a  Battenberg  prince 
now  keeps  the  Balkans  in  perpetual  turmoil.  I 
confess  to  a  prejudice  against  Hessians,  which 
these  summer  studies  from  this  library  have 
strengthened :  but  I  must  not  confound  Prince 
Alexander  of  Hesse  Darmstadt  with  that  venal 
scoundrel  of  Hesse  Cassel,  who  sold  his  subjects 
to  King  George  III.  of  England,  to  destroy  the 
colonies  of  America. 


236  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

From  the  perusal  of  these  histories  of  human 
degeneracy,  how  happy  to  find  the  works  of  the 
"  Gentle  Elia."  They  bring  back  the  remem- 
brances of  summer  days,  like  those  we  pass  here  ; 
and  of  delightful  years,  before  diplomacy  required 
reserve.  His  words  " Spoken  at  the  Mermaid!" 
and  his  sonnets  of  sweetness  and  quaint  conceits 
give  a  vivacity  which  no  carking  care  about 
Harpoot  schools  or  Bulgarian  atrocities  can  ever 
dispel  from  our  diplomatic  mind. 

Here,  too,  is  found  hidden  between  Greek  and 
Armenian  tomes,  Longworth's  "  Year  Among  the 
Circassians."  It  was  published  in  1840.  It  has 
some  old  lithographs  of  the  interiors  of  Circassian 
homes.  These  are  rude  huts.  Few  articles  of 
necessity  and  none  of  luxury  are  shown  in  the  pict- 
ure. Here  is  a  man  with  a  turban.  He  wears  a 
black  beard  and  a  blouse.  On  his  breast  are 
a  score  of  cartridges  arrayed  tastefully.  He 
sports  light  stockings  and  the  usual  pointed 
shoes.  A  saddle  and  gun,  a  curved  sword 
and  a  blanket,  with  an  ottoman  sofa  or  so,  for  re- 
clining at  meals,  or  for  rest,  make  up  the  furni- 
ture. A  fire  of  faggots  is  at  one  end  of  the  hut. 
There  a  tea  kettle  is  boiling.  A  graceful  girl,  in 
a  pretty  bodice  of  dark  material,  a  skirt  of  light 
color,  and  a  tasteful  unique  head-dress  is  the  cen- 
tral female  figure.  A  sheep  at  the  door,  and  a 
brace  of  dogs  near  by,  are  the  accompaniments. 


CIRCASSIAN  HOMES. 

The  household  is  serving  a  Persian,  Turkish  or 
Jewish  visitor  with  meats  and  cups  of  refresh- 
ment. The  hospitality  is  unbounded.  This  is 
the  scene,  nearly  a  half  century  ago,  before 
Schamyl  was  conquered  and  the  Russian  had  tri- 
umphed over  native  valor  and  mountain  fastness. 

But  the  Turk  had  long  before  then  conquered, 
by  his  gold  and  other  agents,  the  beauties  of  these 
mountain  homes,  for  his  harems.  Buying  and 
selling  slaves  for  wives  was  then  a  legal  matter. 
The  mountain  beauties  liked  to  be  sold  out  of 
their  rude  modes  of  living  into  the  luxurious 
ease  of  the  grand  capital.  Any  stranger  who 
interfered  with  the  affair  of  the  hadji,  or 
merchant,  was  left  to  the  cold  sympathies  of 
those  most  nearly  interested.  The  father,  or 
husband,  not  only  often  acquiesced  in  the  trans- 
action, but  it  was  not  considered  disreputable  for 
an  ouzden,  or  a  freeman  in  good  circumstances,  to 
sell  his  own  children.  The  advantages  of  a 
settlement  in  a  good  harem  in  Turkey,  was  the 
animus  of  this  business  which  has  given  most  of 
the  women  and  mothers  to  the  Turkish  harems. 
Besides,  these  females  received  a  pretty  good  edu- 
cation in  Turkey,  including  religious  teaching. 
Their  condition  was  bettered.  Marriage  in  Tur- 
key, as  I  show  in  another  chapter,  is  comparative 
freedom.  It  was  not  freedom  they  wanted,  but 
ease  and  slippered  luxury.  Fancy  gilded  their 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

future.  They  used  to  bring  a  higher  price  if  they 
were  something  beyond  a  tobacco-smoking  hanoum. 
Housewifery  enhanced  their  price.  Sometimes 
the  best  and  prettiest  were  placed  in  establish- 
ments, where,  under  matronly  care,  they  learned 
to  read  and  write,  acquired  some  Arabic  and  Per- 
sian literature,  and  were  taught  how  to  deport 
themselves  gracefully  and  graciously.  It  mat- 
tered not  if  they  were  property,  when,  after  they 
could  display  their  graces  of  mind  and  body,  they 
could  rise  to  independence.  They  could  be  thus 
weaned  from  the  dependence  which  made  them 
submissive  to  the  haughtier  sex  even  in  their  own 
Circassian  household.  When  ushered  into  a  more 
entrancing  sphere,  let  us  not.  be  surprised  at 
seeing  in  these  women  of  the  Circassian  moun- 
tains those  gentle  qualities,  controlling  the  hardier 
sex,  which  form  the  most  attractive  features 
of  the  Turkish  woman,  with  her  languishing 
eye  and  splendid  figure.  The  very  Spartan 
vigor  and  fierceness  of  the  Circassian  man,  which 
forbade  him  to  see  his  wife  except  stealthily,  while 
it  destroyed  much  of  his  affectionate  nature, 
gave  to  the  female  under  such  discipline  and 
reserve  a  constrained  and  modest  demeanor, 
which  is  a  most  seductive  part  of  her  loveliness. 
After  many  generations,  and  with  the  delights  and 
comforts  of  her  new  home  and  the  bath,  she  obtains 
a  complete  mastery  over  herself,  and  her  Turkish 


GE  OR  GIAN  BE  A  UTIES.  230 

husband  and  lord.  That  mastery  extends  to  her 
children.  This  makes  her  a  provoking  conun- 
drum to  the  Frank,  and  a  fascinating  dream  to  all 
who  behold  her. 

The  Georgian  has  a  beauty  quite  different  from 
that  of  the  Circassian.  The  Circassian  is  daz- 
zling, queenlike  and  stately.  She  has  a  fair  skin. 
She  is  elegant  in  form.  She  is  kindly  and  gentle  in 
voice,  but  lazy  in  movement  and  without  esprit. 
One  of  her  own  sex  has  said:  "  there  is  no  soul  in  a 
Circassian  beauty;  and  as  she  pillows  her  pure,  pale 
cheek  upon  her  small  dimpled  hand,  you  feel  no 
inclination  to  arouse  her  into  exertion  ;  you  are 
contented  to  look  upon  her  and  to  contemplate 
her  loveliness."  The  Georgian  is  a  creature  with 
eyes  like  meteors,  and  teeth  almost  as  dazzling  as 
her  eyes.  Her  mouth  does  not  wear  the  sweet 
and  unceasing  smile  of  her  less  vivacious  rival ; 
but  the  proud  expression  that  sits  upon  her  finely 
arched  lips  accords  so  well  with  her  stately  form 
and  lofty  brow  that  you  do  not  seek  to  change  its 
character. 

I  have  an  impression  that  the  Georgian  is 
quite  a  dominant  element  in  Turkey  through  the 
mother.  We  lose  sight  of  this  in  our  confused 
estimates  of  the  Orient  and  its  domestic  influences. 

Ever  since  the  i8th  of  September,  1885,  the 
"ant-hill"  of  Pera,  where  the  diplomatic  people 
winter,  and  the  palaces  of  Bayukdere  and  Thera- 


240  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

pia,  where  they  summer,  have  been  in  incessant 
moil  and  toil  over  the  perpetual  question  of  the 
East.  Many  of  the  books  which  I  found  at  Mis- 
serie's  old  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  and  which  I  was 
allowed  to  import  to  Prinkipo,  were  on  this  subject. 
They  were  not  diverting ;  and  yet  they  were  full 
of  eventualities  which  never  happened,  and  of 
prophesies  of  new  phases  in  which  fresh  delimita- 
tions of  frontier  and  changes  of  dynasties  came 
and  went  in  mosaic  confusion.  They  show  the 
futility  of  a  priori  reasoning.  They  were  big 
with  the  fate  of  empires  and  of  men,  but  other- 
wise little.  One  prospect  appears  all  through 
this  class  of  literature.  It  is  a  "  Dawning  in  the 
East "  which  has  never  yet  dawned.  And  yet 
where  else  should  there  be  dawn  ?  I  open  a  vol- 
ume with  this  phrase  as  a  title.  It  was  written 
at  Bagdad  in  1853.  Was  that  locality  too  far 
East  to  enjoy  a  dawn  ?  This  writer  indulged  in 
roseate  hopes  for  the  Jews  in  Persia,  Kurdistan 
and  Chaldea ;  but  the  past  thirty  years  have  not 
verified  his  optimistic  predictions,  either  as  to  Jew 
or  Gentile.  The  Euphrates  still  runs  down,  the 
tents  of  the  Bedouin  are  still  on  its  banks  and  the 
projected  railroad  of  the  .valley  is  still  a  dream  of 
the  engineer. 

But  the  missionaries  continue  their  work ;  and, 
although  surrounded  by  Bedouins,  we  have  the 
same  good  report  every  day  of  advancement  in 


PROGNOSTICATIONS.  24! 

teaching  the  native  as  to  his  life  and  letters,  and 
the  prevalence  of  brigandage  by  Circassian  vil- 
lains. 

My  view  of  Turkey  is  more  hopeful.  From  the 
Robert  College,  if  permitted  to  continue  its  work, 
may  come  the  redemption  of  the  time  and  of  Asia 
Minor,  Syria  and  the  Balkans.  Princes  may  come 
and  princes  may  go  into  these  struggling  lands, 
but  at  last  the  potent  secret  will  be  revealed,  and 
the  light  of  America  will  illume  the  forlorn  peasant 
homes  of  these  historic  and  much-vexed  lands. 

What  next  ?  A  weather-stained  volume  called 
"  Turkey  and  its  Resources,"  by  Urquart,  pub- 
lished in  1853.  The  author  is  more  economic 
than  prophetic.  He  had  inklings  that  the  adhe- 
sion of  the  various  parts  of  Turkey  were  soon  to  be 
a  thing  of  the  past ;  and  yet  he  was  surprised  that 
Turkey  still  was  languishing  and  lingering.  He 
finds  the  secret  of  this  cohesion  of  empire  in  muni- 
cipal organization.  This  was  not  an  accident,  in 
his  opinion,  but  an  organic  principle  of  Arabic 
legislation.  The  free  states  of  Greece  were  the 
models,  in  fact  the  origin,  of  this  Home  Rule,  which 
binds  the  tribes  of  the  East  in  some  sort  of  unity. 
One  of  the  strange  things  which  this  author  dis- 
cerned and  which  the  Turks  could  not  understand 
was  :  How  can  a  free  land  tax  commerce  and  sur- 
vive. This  problem  is  commended  to  my  own 
countrymen  for  solution. 

16 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

One  volume,  in  gilt  attire  like  a  pasha  at  Bairam, 
fairly  leaps  out  of  its  shelf  to  greet  my  eye  with 
its  large  and  elegant  typography  and  its  interest- 
ing contents.  It  is  the  fifteenth  edition  of  Sir 
Edward  Creasy's  "  Fifteen  Decisive  Battles  of  the 
World,  from  Marathon  to  Waterloo."  Upon  the 
fly-leaf  I  find  the  name  of  my  landlord,  with  the 
script :  "  First  in  classics,  Xmas  '66.  L.  F.  B."  and 
on  the  cover,  in  grand  style,  two  phoenixes,  not 
one  only  as  it  is  fabled,  and  over  them  "  RUGBY 
SCHOOL."  If  the  date  were  only  contemporaneous 
with  "  Tom  Brown,"  or  Dr.  Arnold,  there  would 
be  added  another  employment  for  analogy. 

On  the  occasion  of  urging  upon  Congress  the 
erection  of  the  Saratoga  monument,  I  had  said 
that  Saratoga  was  one  of  the  pivotal  battles  of 
the  world.  I  find  Saratoga  in  this  volume.  It  is 
headed  by  Bishop  Berkeley's  poetic  "  Star  of 
Empire,"  and  Lord  Mahon's  pregnant  words : 
<4that  the  surrender  of  the  thirty-five  hundred 
fighting  men  at  Saratoga,  had  been  so  fruitful  of 
results,  that  it  not  only  changed  the  relations  of 
mankind  and  the  feelings  of  England  toward  the 
American  colonies,  but  it  modified  for  all  time  to 
come  the  connection  between  every  colony  and 
every  parent  state."  Mentally,  I  made  the  com- 
ment which  the  recent  excitement  about  Ireland 
suggested.  What  eventful  connections  have  since 
grown  out  of  the  insurgence  of  the  thirteen  col- 


ENGLISH  POWER. 

onies  toward  the  vast  colonial  dependency  of 
Great  Britain  ! 

Hanging  on  the  wall  in  this  suggestive  library 
is  a  chart  of  the  power  of  Great  Britain.  Every 
continent  is  represented.  Her  immense  dominion 
is  typified  by  various  races  pictured  on  the  chart. 
Along  with  it,  as  the  commentary,  come  to  my 
mind  the  stirring  words  of  Gladstone,  as  I  heard 
them  uttered  at  the  Robert  American  College 
commencement  in  July,  by  a  Celtic  boy  with  a 
Bulgarian  brogue,  who  recited  the  conclusion  of 
the  great  oration  on  behalf  of  a  statutory  Parlia- 
ment and  Home  Rule  for  Ireland  !  A  pardonable 
patriotic  pride  in  the  college,  and  in  the  doctrine 
and  in  the  contest  at  Saratoga,  and  even  in  the 
testy  Englishman,  General  Gates, — whom  I  never 
could  admire, — begat  much  toleration  even  toward 
the  traitor,  Benedict  Arnold.  For  had  he  not,  in 
disregard  of  orders,  given  his  splendid  personal 
courage  to  that  pivotal  battle,  whose  results  the 
reluctant  step-parent  was  all  too  slow  to  recognize, 
but  which  the  world  has  not  failed  to  honor  ? 

It  is  one  of  the  "  Pleasures  of  Prinkipo"  that  in 
this  library,  and  from  Lord  Byron's  poetry  and 
Michel  de  Montaigne's  essays,  I  have  taken  fresh 
quaffs  of  nectared  delight.  Byron's  fine  appre- 
ciation of  the  East  and  Montaigne's  scholar- 
ship, frankness  and  genius  have  filled  up  many 
golden  hours  and  sped  them  with  flying  feet. 


244 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


Byron,  more  than  any  other  poet,  not  excepting 
Lamartine,  has  disentangled  the  sensuous  pleas- 
ure and  historic  appreciation  of  the  Orient,  and 
woven  the  many-tinted  threads  into  robes  of  im- 
purpled  texture.  If  his  "  Bride  of  Abydos "  is 
silly,  as  a  tale,  its  scenes  of  domestic  seclusion, 
and  its  gorgeous  pictures  of  water,  sky  and  earth, 
diamonds,  stars  and  flowers,  never  fail  to  be 
quoted  by  the  young  who  repair  hither  to  fill  their 
golden  urns  of  imagery,  and  by  the  old,  who 
renew  here  their  early  dreams  of  luxuriant  life. 

As  a  foil  and  contrast  to  this  literature  of  the 
Orient,  I  happen  upon  a  half-covered  volume  of 
Frankenstein.  It  was  penned  fifty  years  and  more 
ago,  when  this  sombre  literature  enthralled  the 
literary  world.  But  where  now  is  the  weird  mon- 
ster of  Mary  Shelley's  prolific  imagination  ?  And 
yet,  in  this  day  of  marvels  in  physical  science,  the 
creation  of  a  human  frame  by  human  skill,  and 
endowing  it  with  the  principle  of  life,  may  not 
seem  as  bold  as  it  did  in  1831.  But  as  a  figment 
of  the  brain,  it  is,  as  the  author  urges,  of  the  same 
type  as  the  "  Iliad,"  the  "  Tempest,"  and  "  Paradise 
Lost."  Its  first  scene  is  laid  in  the  region  of  the 
frozen  North  ;  but  its  bewildering  magic  emanates 
from  the  Orient.  What  Paracelsus  and  Albertus 
Magnus  taught,  are  they  not  prefigured  in  the 
monstrous  beings  of  the  "  Thousand  and  One 
Nights  ?  "  The  idea  of  constructing  a  being  of  gi- 


THE  MAGICIANS  OF  THE  EAST.  245 

gantic  mould  and  infusing  into  it  the  vital  spark, 
together  with  the  terrible  Nemesis  of  the  story,  is 
of  the  Orient,  all  complete.  Beside,  is  not  the 
Orient  the  home  of  the  Magi  ?  Have  not  the 
fire  worshippers  made  its  sacred  fires  perennial 
and  poetical  ?  Even  at  this  day,  the  naphtha  of 
Baku  has  its  religious  associations,  to  which  the 
muse  of  Moore  gave  melody.  How  small  the 
world  of  fact  and  fancy  is !  How  near  akin  are 
the  delusions  of  the  past  to  the  science  of  the 
present !  Aye,  even  in  these  library  shelves  of 
Prinkipo,  I  gaze  with  awe,  not  unmixed  with 
wonder,  upon  two  books  bound  in  bloody  red, 
which  connect  my  daily  diplomatic  duty  with  the 
poetry  of  the  past  and  the  rites  of  the  Parsee. 
The  next  chapter  will  elucidate  the  relation. 

It  would  fill  a  volume  were  I  to  recount 
the  rich  variety  of  the  thesaurus  of  the  library 
which  came  to  us  with  our  villa.  Here  on  one 
shelf  is  Sir  John  Lubbock's  "  Origin  of  Civiliza- 
tion "  and  "  Primeval  Man."  In  strange  juxtapo- 
sition I  find  the  complete  works  of  Moliere.  On 
opening  the  latter  I  find  this  commendation  by  his 
editor:  "Deux  species  sont  passes,  dit  avec  raison 
M.  Bagou,  et  nous  at  tendons  encore"  Moliere's 
genius  of  comedy  has  had  more  than  his 
two  centuries,  but  wherever  the  keen  French 
wit  predominates,  as  it  does  in  the  Orient,  his 
works  are  perused  with  much  riant  enthusiasm. 


246  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Alongside  of  Herschel's  "  Physical  Geography," 
with  its  revelations  of  our  earth  and  seas,  lands 
and  minerals,  snows  and  rain  falls,  caloric  and 
magnetism,  I  find  a  strange  volume  whose  title  is 
"Inquire  Within  Upon  Everything."  On  inquir- 
ing, I  find  an  interesting  discussion  which  vindi- 
cates the  letter  H  in  the  English  vocabulary,  or 
rather  its  omission,  as  being  a  correct  mode  of 
speech.  In  fact,  this  book  answers  all  queries— 
from  the  killing  of  vermin  to  the  style  of  a  frock; 
from  the  selection  of  a  dining-table  to  the  carving 
of  a  turkey  or  the  decoration  of  a  room. 

Here  in  one  corner  of  the  library  I  find, 
"Boner  Hunting  Chamois  in  the  Alps;"  in 
another  place,  "  A  Golden  Treasury  of  Lyrics." 
"Zadkiel's  Astrology"  astonishes,  by  its  prox- 
imity to  "  The  Chemistry  of  Common  Life." 
Macaulay  and  the  "  Waverley  Novels"  are 
snugly  hid  along  with  Thucydides  and  Plutarch. 
Paley  shakes  hands  with  our  own  Maury,  and 
"  Henry  Esmond"  with  Homer,  ^Eschines  and  the 
whole  cohort  of  Greeks.  Here  is  Carey's  Gradus ! 
It  takes  us  up  the  heights  of  Olympus.  But  is 
there  anything  in  the  library  pertinent  to  my  own 
life  in  the  East  ?  Yes  :  "  Chesterfield's  Letters  to 
his  Son."  I  open  it  at  page  301.  It  gives  me  ad- 
vice for  a  most  pressing  emergency  at  the  Porte. 
"Why  is  it,"  it  asks,  "that  negotiators  have 
always  been  the  politest  and  best  bred  men  in  the 


CHESTERFIELD 'S  AD  VICE  FOLLO  WED. 

world  in  company?"  Ahem!  Then  he  proceeds 
to  say  : 

"  For  God's  sake,  never  lose  view  of  these  two, 
your  capital  objects  :  bend  everything  to  them,  try 
everything  by  their  rules,  and  calculate  everything 
for  their  purposes.  What  is  peculiar  to  these  two 
objects  is,  that  they  require  nothing  but  what 
one's  own  vanity,  interest  and  pleasure  would 
make  one  do  independently  of  them.  If  a  man 
were  never  to  be  in  business,  and  always  to  lead  a 
private  life,  would  he  not  desire  to  please  and  to 
persuade  ?  S.o  that  in  your  two  destinations  your 
fortune  and  figure  luckily  conspire  with  your  van- 
ity and  your  pleasures.  Nay  more ;  a  foreign 
minister,  I  will  maintain  it,  can  never  be  a  good 
man  of  business  if  he  is  not  an  .agreeable  man  of 
pleasure  too.  Half  his  business  is  done  by  the 
help  of  his  pleasures ;  his  views  are  carried  on, 
and  perhaps  best,  and  most  unsuspectedly,  at 
balls,  suppers,  assemblies,  and  parties  of  pleasure ; 
by  intrigues  with  women,  and  connections  insensi- 
bly formed  with  men,  at  those  unguarded  hours  of 
amusement. 

"  These  objects  now  draw  very  near  you,  and  you 
have  no  time  to  lose  in  preparing  yourself  to  meet 
them.  You  will  be  in  Parliament  almost  as  soon 
as  your  age  will  allow,  and  I  believe  you  will  have 
a  foreign  department  still  sooner,  and  that  will  be 
earlier  than  ever  anybody  had  one." 


248  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

With  one  or  two  exceptions,  which  I  will  not 
notice,  I  have  endeavored  to  practice,  and  not 
without  some  success,  these  Chesterfieldian  pre- 
cepts. In  fact,  it  was  in  pursuance  of  their  sug- 
gestions that  I  was  enabled  to  accomplish  what 
the  President  was  pleased  to  commend  in  his  last 
Message,  in  behalf  of  American  interests  at  the 
Porte.  It  was  because  of  this  accomplishment- 
thanks  to  Lord  Chesterfield — that  I  concluded  to 
return  home,  after  diplomacy  did  not,  and  as  my 
new  service  does  not,  require  so  many  and  such 
peculiar  sacrifices  to  the  graces. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

INFERNAL    FIRE    AND     LALLA     ROOKH DIPLOMACY 

THE    ROMANCE    AND    POETRY    OF    PETROLEUM. 

I  CAME  to  take  an  interest  in  the  matters  indi- 
cated by  the  head  of  this  chapter  because  my 
official  duty  required  me  to  examine  into  certain 
petroleum  frauds  on  our  trade  in  the  classic  isle  of 
Mitylene.  This  interest  was  spurred  by  some 
happy  coincidences,  partly  literary  and  partly 
.social.  Thus  it  happened  to  "  concatenate  ac- 
cordingly." 

Twenty-six  years  ago  I  wandered  into  a  store 
near  my  law  office  in  Cincinnati,  Ohio.  It  was 
kept  by  the  Messrs.  James.  I  opened  an  exquisite 
edition  of  Thomas  Moore's  "  Lalla  Rookh."  That 
book,  the  dandyism  of  all  literary  Orientalism,  was 
en  toilette  in  gold  and  ruby — ruby  predominant. 
I  read  the  dedication  to  Samuel  Rogers.  When 
I  opened  the  same  volume,  the  other  day,  in 
my  library  in  Prinkipo,  the  "  Pleasures  of  Mem- 
ory "  returned.  I  recalled,  by  a  system  of  mne- 
monics, my  Cincinnati  experience  as  a  young 
lawyer — or,  rather,  as  an  inchoate  lawyer,  then 
studying  how  Law  limped  after  Justice  in  vain  ; 

249 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

for  I  am  not  aware  that  in  the  three  decades 
or  more  since,  Law  has  overtaken  her  healthier 
sister.  Many  a  time  since  I  have  seen  Law  stum- 
ble, just  as  she  was  about  to  join  hands  with  Jus- 
tice and  assist  the  latter  to  bear  the  scales  aloft. 

Eheu  !  Posthume  !  How  the  years  have  glided 
away  since  that  morning  of  my  life,  when  "  Lalla 
Rookh  "  was  one  of  the  sources  of  my  inspiration, 
and  before  petroleum  had  lighted  my  student's 
lamp  in  this  Eastern  capital. 

During  one  of  the  damp,  foggy,  gloomy  days  of 
the  past  winter,  a  stranger  from  New  York  was 
announced.  I  hastened  to  the  reception  room, 
and  while  awaiting  him  I  picked  up,  by  way  of 
passing  the  time,  that  very  volume  of  "  Lalla 
Rookh."  It  has  followed  the  author  around  this 
planet  and  gives  much  comfort  by  its  sensuous 
imagery  and  impearled  ideas.  But  on  this  oc- 
casion this  beauteous  work  was  all  aglow  with  its 
ruby  and  gold.  It  lay  next  to  a  terrific  volume 
called  the  "  Region  of  Eternal  Fire,"  dressed  like 
Mephisto  himself,  and  sporting  gold-leaf  all  over 
its  diabolic  cover.  It  was  Marvin's  account  of  a 
journey  to  the  petroleum  regions  of  the  Caspian 
in  1883.  The  book,  its  cover,  and  contents  de- 
served the  sinister  title. 

But  what  has  the  Nourmahal  to  do  with  these 
subterranean  deviltries  ?  This  much :  That  the 
place  in  "  Lalla  Rookh  "  upon  which  I  happened 


V 


ARMENIA 


,  PERSIA 

/**  TEHERAN 


THE   REGION    OF    FIRE   AND    PETROLEUM. 


MOORE'S  FIRE  WORSHIPPERS.  2$l 

in  my  momentary  vagary  gives  a    description  of 

Ivan's  outlawed  men — the  worshippers  of  fire  !  It 

locates    them    near    Yezd's    eternal    mansion  of 
caloric— 

"  Where  aged  saints  in  dreams  of  heaven  expire ; 
From  Baku,  and  those  fountains  of  blue  flame 
That  burn  into  the  Caspian." 

To  this  verse  there  is  an  annotation  which  in- 
dicates the  historic  facts  to  which  Marvin  alludes 
in  his  practical  observations — viz.,  that  about 
Baku,  from  early  times,  the  sun  and  fire  worship- 
pers abided  and  that  they  kept  illuminated  the  fires 
with  vestal  vigilance  for  3000  years  on  a  sacred 
mountain  near  Yezd,  called  Ater  Quedah.  He 
was  reckoned  unfortunate  who  died  away  from 
that  mountain.  Another  note  to  Moore's  verse 
says  :  "  When  the  weather  is  hazy  on  the  Caspian 
shore  the  springs  of  naphtha  on  an  island  near 
Baku  boil  up  higher,  and  the  naphtha  often  takes 
fire  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  and  runs  in  a 
flame  into  the  sea,  to  a  distance  almost  incred- 
ible." 

This  edition  of  "  Lalla  Rookh"  was  of  1849,  and 
the  notes  were  by  the  author  as  early  as  1817 ;  so 
that  Baku,  now  so  famous,  and  to  Americans  so 
troublesome  and  interesting  as  a  competitor,  is 
not  a  new  place  as  a  fiery  resort  or  as  a  theme  for 
literary  exercise. 


252 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


The  odd  coincidence  of  the  proximity  of  these 
volumes  on  my  table,  and  the  other  fact  that  I 
opened  the  poetic  volume  by  chance  upon  the 
verse  and  notes  quoted,  gave  rise  to  a  new  marvel. 
It  was  this  :  My  visitor  was  an  agent  of  the  Amer- 
ican Standard  Oil  Company  !  He  was  en  route  to 
Baku  !  He  was  about  to  sound  the  depths,  vol- 
ume, and  values  of  these  remarkable  wells  !  This 
visitor  was  the  shrewdest  man  I  met  in  the  East. 
He  was  looking  after  his  business  and  the  new 
light  of  Asia  with  a  watchful  eye  on  Baku.  He 
intended  to  go  there.  He  did  go.  He  returned 
and  reported.  He  did  not  say  much.  He  was 
writing  it  all  up  for  his  employers.  I  propose  to 
do  a  little  of  this  for  my  readers,  since  it  combines 
the  utilities  of  light  and  life  with  the  elegance  of 
poetry. 

To  do  this  I  must  draw  upon  Marvin's  "  Eter- 
nal Fire."  Marvin  is  not  a  slow,  infrequent,  or 
unknown  wrriter.  He  is  voluminous.  He  was  the 
correspondent  of  the  London  Morning  Post  on 
many  a  well  fought  journalistic  field.  He  it  was 
who  wrote  the  "  Russians  at  Merv  and  Herat," 
"  The  Russian  Advance  Toward  India,"  "  Merv, 
the  Queen  of  the  World,"  "  Reconnoitring  Cen- 
tral Asia,"  etc.  He  captured  the  Caspian,  if  ever 
man  did,  by  way  of  penetrating  its  physical  and 
political  secrets. 

Mr.    Marvin's    new    Inferno     is   the    result    of 


BAKU  ENTERPRISE  IN  OIL. 

much  research,  for  he  has  exhausted  the  literature 
of  petroleum  as  well  as  its  physical  phenomena. 
That  literature  is  by  no  means  limited  to  "  Lalla 
Rookh."  Names  that  give  one  the  lockjaw  to 
pronounce,  such  as  Gulishambamp,  Markooriskopf, 
Ogloblin,  Mendeleiff,  Gospodin,  Polelika,  and 
others  have  given  to  the  petroleum  industry  of 
Baku  and  of  Russia  much  chronicle  and  many 
statistics.  Yet  Mr.  Marvin's  book  seems  to  have 
rather  a  tendency  toward  a  high  appraisement  of 
the  Messrs.  Nobel  and  their  great  genius  for  engi- 
neering, and  properties  in  oil.  I  could  not  rise 
from  its  perusal  without  that  impression. 

The  engravings  in  the  book  of  the  Nobel  works 
are  interesting,  but  I  should  say  that  Nobel  drew 
something  in  favor  of  Marvin  for  them.  But  are 
not  these  enterprising  Swedi'sh  men  worthy  of  all 
that  is  said  and  pictured  ?  The  brothers  Nobel 
have  dabbled  in  dynamite  and  triumphed  in  tor- 
pedoes ;  but  their  enterprise  at  Baku  in  laying 
down  the  first  pipe-line  and  by  replacing  barrels 
with  cistern  steamers — in  fact,  by  organizing  an 
oil  fleet  and  making  communication  over  the  shal- 
lows of  the  Volga  by  tank-cars,  with  depots  over 
Russia,  and  soon  to  be  extended  elsewhere — is  a 
romance  worthy  of  celebration  by  pen  and  pencil, 
a  romance  greater  than  that  of  which  Tom  Moore 
sings.  How  the  Nobel  business  is  carried  on,  all 
for  cash, — how  the  brothers  have  passed  crises  in 


2^4  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

the  financial  world, — how  they  have  harnessed  the 
Russian  government  to  their  petroleum-car, — how 
their  business  has  become  nearly  a  monopoly  by 
reason  of  their  peculiar  mechanical  skill  and  ap- 
pliances,— is  it  not  written  by  Marvin  in  a  most  fas- 
cinating manner  ?  Whether  you  consider  the  ma- 
terial wonder  described  by  Major-General  Gold- 
sword  in  1870,  when  he  saw  natural  petroleum  gas 
fires  which  had  been  flaring  more  than  2  500  years  ; 
or  whether  igniting  in  the  furnaces  of  a  hundred 
steamers  on  the  Caspian  and  Volga ;  or  the  enor- 
mous subterranean  reservoirs  which  science  here 
locates  ;  or  the  great  ridge  beneath  the  Caspian, 
from  shore  to  shore  and  beneath  the  Caucasus, 
from  sea  to  sea ;  whether  this  useful  element  be 
found  beneath  the  barren  steppes  or  under  the 
mountain  chains,  or  whether  it  rises  in  columns 
like  the  geysers  of  Iceland  or  the  Yellowstone ; 
whether,  as  at  Findlay,  Ohio,  or  at  Allegheny 
City,  Pennsylvania,  it  is  made  to  move  machinery 
and  illuminate  great  workshops ;  whether  its 
streams  come  forth  in  iridescent  beauty — the  iris 
out  of  whose  black  unfragrance  comes  the  pig- 
ments for  the  painting  of  my  lady's  robe  or  her 
maid's  frock  ;  whether  it  exudes  from  the  sodden 
soil  or  is  used  for  watering  the  dusty  streets  of 
Baku  ;  or  whether  it  weaves  by  locomotion  and 
the  swift-flying  shuttle  of  interchange  a  new  civil- 
ization,— it  is  at  once  a  theme  for  the  muse  of 


THE  PARSEES. 

Moore  and  the  speculations  of  the  bourse.  If  it 
be  true,  as  is  alleged,  that  a  single  man  pricked 
the  earth  near  Baku  and  wasted  50,000,000  or 
100,000,000  gallons  of  good  oil — enough  to  supply 
and  light  London  for  years — then  poetry  has  lost 
its  license,  and  should  turn  over  its  office  to  a 
tenth  muse,  which  I  christen  the  "  Muse  of 
Mechanism,"  to  sing  in  oily  numbers  these  natural 
glories  and  humanities  of  the  earth. 

Outside  of  the  mercenary  view  of  this  burning 
question,  it  may  be  stated  that  the  Parsee  still 
lives  ;  but  fuel  to  feed  his  sacred  fire  is  now  an 
expensive  item.  Yet  it  must  be  supplied  when- 
ever a  new  temple  is  dedicated.  Sixteen  different 
kinds  of  wood,  in  one  thousand  and  one  pieces  of 
fuel,  are  required  to  obtain  the  sacred  flame.  This 
is  afterwards  fed  with  sandal-wood,  and  the  cost 
of  the  process  averages  $7500.  There  are  still 
three  large  and  thirty-three  small  fire-temples  at 
Bombay  !  They  are  by  no  means  inexpensive. 

The  fire  worshipper  is  no  longer  paramount  in 
Persia.  Zoroaster  no  longer  teaches  his  peculiar 
doctrine.  Nine-tenths  of  the  Persians  are  Ma- 
hometans. There  has  been  a  perpetual  perse- 
cution of  those  who  remain  faithful  to  the  fiery 
tenets  of  their  forefathers.  For  twelve  hundred 
and  fifty  years  the  Guebres  (the  name  from 
which  the  Gaiour,  or  infidel,  is  taken)  have  sur- 
vived. They  pay  their  devotion  to  the  life-giving 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

principle  of  the  sun.  They  do  not  worship  the  sun. 
They  worship  God,  its  creator  ;  the  Being  who 
is  supreme  over  fire  and  light.  The  Guebres  are 
an  honest  race.  They  are  of  the  pure  Persian 
stock,  when  Persia  was  of  some  account  in  the 
conduct  and  history  of  the  world.  Most  of  the 
Parsees  reside  in  India.  Their  homes  are  in 
Bombay  and  in  Calcutta.  Out  of  the  hundred 
thousand  who  survive,  only  about  seven  thousand 
are  left  in  Persia.  Their  worship  is  singularly 
beautiful,  symbolical,  and  not  at  all  unworthy  of 
the  great  demonstration  which  nature  makes  in 
and  around  Baku.  It  is  by  no  means  unworthy 
of  the  auroral  splendors  of  the  dawn  when  its  most 
prominent  observances  hail  the  coming  day ! 
That  people  which  does  not  enjoy  light  and  fails 
to  illumine,  wherever  and  whenever  nature  makes 
provision,  are  the  laggards  in  the  human  race. 
The  fire  worshippers  love  the  light  and  their  ways 
are  not  evil ! 

Sometimes  these  fountains  of  naphtha  create  a 
volcano  whose  sudden  outbursts  quite  swamp  the 
little  buildings  around.  It  is  not  a  volcano  of  fire 
so  much  as  of  hot  mud.  Some  time  ago  there 
was  an  explosion  about  ten  miles  from  Baku,  and 
a  column  of  fire  shot  up  three  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  high.  The  country  was  illuminated.  The  heat 
was  perceptible  miles  away.  Little  damage  was 
done,  for  there  was  no  wind,  The  volume  of 


KEROSENE  AS  A  C2VILIZER.  257 

muddy  liquid  thrown  up  was  estimated  in  Russian, 
which  I  cannot  interpret,  except  by  the  vague 
data  that  it  spread  itself  over  more  than  a  square 
mile,  and  to  a  depth  of  from  seven  to  fourteen 
feet! 

David  A.  Wells,  in  his  new  book  called  "  A 
Study  of  Mexico,"  regards  the  kerosene  lamp  as 
one  of  the  motors  of  civilization  in  Mexico,  only 
next  after  the  railroad.  In  urging  the  reciprocity 
treaty  with  America  he  indicates  how  a  bright, 
new,  little  kerosene  lamp  became  to  him  the  most 
remarkable  and  interesting  object  of  importation 
from  the  United  States  to  that  country.  It  was 
to  him  "  remarkable  and  interesting,  because 
neither  the  man  nor  his  father,  possibly  since  the 
world  to  them  began,  had  ever  before  known  any- 
thing better  than  a  blazing  brand  as  a  method  for 
illumination  at  night,  and  had  never  had  either 
the  knowledge,  the  desire,  or  the  means  of  obtain- 
ing anything  superior.  But  at  last,"  says  Mr. 
Wells,  "  through  contact  with  and  employment 
on  the  American  railroad,  the  desire,  the  op- 
portunity, the  means  to  purchase,  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  simple  mechanism  of  the  lamp,  had 
come  to  this  humble,  isolated  Mexican  peasant  ; 
and  out  of  the  germ  of  progress  thus  spontane- 
ously, as  it  were,  developed  by  the  wayside,  may 
come  influences  more  potent  for  civilization  and 
the  elevation  of  humanity  in  Mexico  than  all  that 
17 


258  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

church  and  state  have  been  able  to  effect  within 
the  last  three  centuries." 

The  same  may  be  said,  with  even  more  empha- 
sis, about  our  petroleum  interests  in  Turkey.  The 
petroleum  can  and  lamp  play  a  double  purpose  ; 
the  one  as  a  tin  bucket  and  the  other  as  a  vessel 
for  the  fluid  which  gives  so  much  comfort  to 
the  dark  places  of  the  East.  It  supplies,  in  fact, 
the  lamp  of  Aladdin,  from  whose  friction  sprang 
rare  and  wonderful  opulence. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  Job  was  a  rich 
man.  Perhaps  many  of  his  boils  and  broils  came 
out  of  the  fact  that  he  was  an  opulent  liver.  Con- 
sidering the  land  of  Uz  as  we  now  find  it,  one 
would  suppose  there  wras  very  little  wealth  in  it. 
We  have  not  a  very  clear  idea  of  it.  Job  must 
have  worked  several  gangs  of  slaves  on  fruitful 
ground  in  the  desert.  He  had  some  connection 
with  the  petroleum  industry  of  the  Euphrates, 
although  it  has  never  been  thoroughly  acknowl- 
edged. Job  acquired  his  large  fortune  from  the 
uncertain  element  of  the  petroleum  wells.  Some- 
times they  gave  him  abundance  ;  at  other  times, 
like  the  wells  around  Pittsburgh,  they  gave  him 
nothing.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  when  his 
wells  caught  fire,  it  spread  fire  on  the  prairie,  and 
not  only  destroyed  houses,  and  flocks,  and  children, 
but  reduced  Job  to  a  considerable  amount  of  pro- 
fanity and  scalding  sores.  Whatever  may  be  said, 


ASP  HAL  TUM  MARE.  2$Q 

however,  about  this  remarkable  man,  it  is  very 
certain  that  before  his  time — many  years  before 
his  time — the  Dead  Sea,  the  Asphaltum  Mare, 
was  the  result  of  a  vast  eruption  of  which  oil 
was  the  principal  ingredient.  Its  surface  is  below 
other  sea  levels.  The  earth's  crust  must  have 
been  rather  thin  there,  so  easily  was  it  ruptured. 
Otherwise  the  five  cities  of  the  plain  might  to-day 
be  rivals  of  Chicago  or  Birmingham.  The  Dead 
Sea  is  very  salty.  In  boring  for  petroleum  saline 
springs  are  often  tapped.  But  for  the  tap  in  the 
crust,  when  Lot  fled  from  Sodom,  Jordan  might 
not  have  been  deflected  from  its  course,  and 
Canaan  might  still  have  been  a  land  for  the 
sacred  lyric  muse  beyond  all  the  music  of  the 
Methodist  or  the  rhapsodyof  the  Russian  devotee. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  petroleum  bubbles  up  to 
the  surface  of  the  Dead  Sea  and  that  the  sun's 
rays  solidify  it.  This  is  asphaltum — the  purest 
bitumen.  It  is  known  in  Egypt  as  the  element  by 
which  the  mummies  were  made  up  for  immor- 
talization. Herodotus  (I  seldom  quote  him  with- 
out thinking  of  his  title  as  "  the  father  of  liars  ") 
has  made  several  remarks  about  petroleum.  I 
will  not  quote,  for  fear  I  may  be  challenged  to 
the  proof.  I  turn  to  Plutarch,  who  had  a  sense 
of  veracity.  He  confirms  Herodotus  and  we  will 
take  Herodotus  into  our  confidence  for  this 
occasion  only.  Plutarch  describes  certain  re- 


26o  THE  PRIKCES  ISLES. 

markable  phenomena  in  which  fire  is  an  element. 
In  fact,  the  oil  to  which  he  calls  attention  was 
burned  in  the  ancient  lamp.  It  was  known 
to  the  Romans  as  Sicilian  oil.  From  Persia 
to  Italy,  from  Hafis  to  Horace,  the  lamp 
which  gave  its  sweetness  to  love  and  its  glory  to 
the  Augustine  age  was  fed  from  the  burning 
spring  of  the  Orient — the  same  wonderful  phe- 
nomena of  which  Zoroaster  was  the  prophet,  and 
the  Parsees  the  devotees. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  make  a  disquisition 
upon  petroleum.  The  genius  of  man  is  penetrat- 
ing the  crust  of  the  earth  in  its  every  part ;  and 
from  the  shores  of  the  Caspian  to  China  and 
Japan,  from  Formosa  to  the  Punjab,  aye  even  out 
of  the  lost  Atlantis,  in  the  Bermudas,  the  Canadas 
and  Pennsylvania,  this  element  of  fire  leaps  to 
the  surface  at  the  touch  of  the  diviner's  wand. 

It  is,  however,  to  the  United  States  that  this 
industry  owes  its  highest  refinement  and  per- 
fection of  distribution.  The  carrying  of  oil  from 
the  springs  to  the  refineries  in  pipes,  over  thou- 
sands of  miles  and  from  hundreds  of  reservoirs  ; 
the  genius  by  which  through  chemistry  this  oil 
is  purified ;  the  immense  Standard  Oil  Company, 
with  its  capital  of  twenty  odd  millions  ;  our  ex- 
ports, which  from  New  York  alone  are  over  forty 
millons  of  barrels,  nearly  all  refined, — call  up  an 
image  of  prosperity  in  an  olden  trade. 


IS  PE  TROLE UM  A  SAFE  MO  TOR  ?  26 1 

One  drawback  to  the  use  of  petroleum  has  been 
recently  developed.  It  is  very  doubtful,  judging 
by  the  terrible  explosion  recently  on  the  "  Petri- 
ana,"  one  of  the  tank  steamers,  whether  or  not  it  is 
possible  to  work  the  petroleum  vessel.  The  crew 
having  taken  naked  lights  into  a  tank-room  which 
had  been  somewhat  strained  in  a  gale,  the  gas  was 
fired.  Great  loss  of  life  ensued,  and  the  inference 
is  that  if  petroleum  is  ever  used  for  fuel  in  loco- 
motives and  ships,  there  will  be  plenty  of  accidents 
after  this  pattern.  This  trouble  is  likely  to  be  ob- 
viated. 

Whether  you  consider  this  petroleum  develop- 
ment in  the  nebulous  glimmer  of  ancient  and 
religious  history,  or  in  the  blaze  of  modern  science 
applied  to  labor-saving  machinery,  is  it  not  marvel- 
lous ?  Whether  it  make  out  of  the  Caspian  a 
grand  commerce  and  revolutionize  and  perhaps 
rescue  people  who  have,  like  the  Armenians,  lost 
their  nationality  and  home,  this  marvel  may 
again  be,  as  it  was  to  ancient  Greek  and  Roman 
navigators,  a  Pharos  arresting  attention  and  giv-* 
ing  safety  to  the  almost  despairing  barks  of  human 
hope  and  happiness.  Is  it  therefore  wonderful 
that  the  ancient  world,  seeking  a  religion  with 
mysterious  rites,  should  find  in  this  awful  and 
unknown  element  of  eternal  fire  its  sacred 
symbol  and  worship  ?  The  Greek  had  his  Vul- 
can, or  Hephaestus  ;  but  the  Persian,  with  like 


262  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

aspiration,  made  fire  not  merely  the  emblem 
of  the  divine  intelligence,  but  of  God  himself  ! 
The  Jews  connected  fire  with  Jehovah.  The 
burning  bush  revealed  their  God.  A  sacred  flame 
burned  unceasingly  in  the  temple.  When,  there- 
fore, from  the  soil  or  from  the  fissures  of  the  lime- 
stone of  Baku  the  gas  issued,  it  became  a  light 
through  the  labyrinths  of  devotion  into  the  un- 
seen world. 

When  Moses  was  a  child,  a  thousand  years  be- 
fore Christ,  the  disciples  of  Zoroaster  made  pil- 
grimages to  Baku.  Its  sacred  soil  was  known  to 
the  Saracens  as  early  as  A.D.  600.  The  Parsees 
here  worshipped  until  the  conquering  iconoclastic 
Moslem,  with  his  one  ineffable,  invisible  Allah, 
destroyed  the  temples  of  fire  and  the  illusions  of 
the  Magi.  As  late  as  the  twelfth  century  pilgrim- 
ages of  the  fire  worshippers  were  permitted  under 
Persian  conduct.  Since  that  time  we  have  ac- 
counts of  this  strange  fire,  and  its  utilities  in  giv- 
ing light,  in  slacking  lime  and  in  cooking  victuals. 

Petroleum  is  the  "  Seneca  oil "  of  our  own  In- 
dians. They  used  it  for  medical  purposes.  "  The 
Russians  drink  it,"  says  a  writer,  ''as  a  cordial!" 
What  will  not  a  Russian  drink,  regardless  of  odor 
or  vigor?  It  was  good  for  "sore  heads;"  for 
scorbutic  pains,  gout,  and  cramps.  It  was  early 
an  article  of  commerce.  It  had  its  factories.  But 
never  until  lately,  except  perhaps  in  some  of  the 


PETROLEUM— A  FACTOR  OF  PROGRESS. 


263 


lost  arts,  has  it  been  used  as  a  motor  of  machinery 
and  a  factor  of  progress.  While  it  has  flamed 
about  Baku,  empires  have  risen,  ripened,  and  rot- 
ted. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

JAUNT    TO    THE    PALACE    OF    BEYLERBEY ITS    ASSOCI- 
ATIONS,   MENAGERIE    AND    TIGER RULES 

FOR  A   TIGER-HUNT. 

THERE  is  one  portion  of  the  Bosphorus  on  the 
Asiatic  side,  known  as  Kandilli.  The  whole  har- 
bor of  Constantinople  is  in  full  view  from  this 
point.  From  time  immemorial  it  has  been  called 
the  place  "gifted  with  lanterns."  Just  below  it, 
is  the  modern  Turkish  village  of  Beylerbey. 
From  one  village  of  Turkey  and  its  quiet  life  you 
may  learn  of  all.  Here  are  the  houses  and  cot- 
tages, the  little  mosque,  the  bay- trees,  and  the 
cemetery.  Yonder  is  the  good  Imaum,  the  Han- 
oum  to  be  respected,  and  the  Pasha  in  all  his  dig- 
nity. There  is  the  country  bumpkin  at  his 
marriage,  too  bashful  to  venture  through  the 
midst  of  the  young  girls  of  the  village  to  fetch 
away  his  bride  according  to  the  usual  custom. 
Sometimes,  but  rarely,  you  see  a  sottish  son  or 
wild  daughter  who  furnishes  the  topic  of  multitu- 
dinous gossip  for  the  many  mothers-in-law.  That 
street  Arab  is  eating  simits — the  ring-shaped 
bread  with  sesame  seed  upon  its  shining  surface. 

264 


A  ROYAL  PERSONAGE.  2fa 

Here,  in  short,  are  all  the  ups  and  downs  of  hum- 
ble fortune  ;  but  among  them  all  is  preserved  the 
beautiful  Oriental  custom  of  taking  home  to  the 
family  the  evening  presents. 

I  have  a  special  memory  of  Beylerbey,  not  so 
much,  indeed,  of  its  charming  environments,  as  of 
a  brief  interview  I  once  had  there  with  a  royal 
personage.  He  was  the  last  of  an  ancient  line — a 
prisoner  of  state  ;  alas  !  confined  by  the  decree  of 
the  Sultan  within  the  appanage  of  the  palace 
demesne.  What  his  offence  or  treason  was  I  never 
sought  to  know.  It  makes  me  sad  to  think  of 
him.  It  is  not  safe  to  become  too  familiar  with 
such  victims  of  Oriental  despotism.  I  saw  him 
but  a  few  brief  moments.  I  looked  upon  him  ;— 
and  for  this  indiscreet  curiosity  alone  I — yes  I, 
the  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipoten- 
tiary of  the  United  States  of  America,  came  near 
forfeiting  my  existence.  I  had  to  run  for  my  life 
—to  fly  to  my  little  launch,  which  was  the  only 
vessel  in  the  harbor  bearing  our  ensign — at  that 
time.  Surely  this  ought  to  be  a  lesson  to  Con- 
gress, in  respect  of  our  decrepit  navy  !  Diplo- 
macy compelled  me  to  pocket  the  indignity  I  suf- 
fered. Disagreeable  as  this  incident  was,  it  had 
its  ludicrous  aspect  as  the  reader  will  see  further 
on. 

Beylerbey  was  not  always  a  place    of   confine- 
ment   for  prisoners  of   state.      In  ancient  days  it 


266  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

was  a  favorite  pleasure  retreat  of  the  Byzantine 
emperors.  It  had  then  its  famous  Greek  church, 
Chrysoxeramos — of  the  golden  tiles.  When  the 
Turks  came  they  gave  the  place  the  name  of 
"Joy  Unceasing."  It  long  remained  the  chosen 
residence  of  the  Sultans,  who  preferred  the  Asiat- 
ic to  the  other  side  of  the  Bosphorus  for  the  sum- 
mer season.  It  still  retains  much  of  its  imperial 
enchantments — and  entanglements,  as  I  found  out 
on  my  first  visit,  but  not  with  "  unceasing  joy." 

Among  the  several  palaces  on  the  eastern  side 
of  the  Bosphorus  are  the  palaces  of  Istavros, 
Chengel,  Keui,  Kouleh,  and  Kandilli,  but  the  pal- 
ace of  Beylerbey  is  the  most  beautiful  and  re- 
nowned of  them  all.  It  was  built  by  Mahmoud 
II.  for  a  summer  residence.  It  rose  like  an  ex- 
halation to  sweetest  music.  It  was  planned  in  a 
dream,  beneath  the  shadow  of  an  Oriental  moun- 
tain, in  an  hour  of  golden  luxuriousness  and  in- 
dolence, and  carried  into  execution  during  a  fit 
of  elegant  caprice. 

When  the  beautiful  Empress  Eugenie  visited 
the  Orient  at  the  opening  of  the  Suez  canal,  the 
reigning  Sultan,  Abdul  Aziz,  went  to  many  ex- 
cesses of  magnificent  courtesy,  including  the  dedi- 
cation to  her  use  of  the  Beylerbey  palace.  It  was 
then  completely  refurnished.  The  upholstery  was 
of  velvet  and  satin.  The  decorations  of  the  cham- 
ber of  the  Empress  were  copied  from  those  in  the 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESS. 

Tuilleries.  A  magnificent  caique,  marvellous  be- 
yond the  dreams  of  Cleopatra,  was  built  ex- 
pressly for  Her  Majesty.  It  had  all  the  Oriental 
appointments  and  rich  carvings  in  gold,  while 
everything  was  ready  to  be  served  in  European 
or  Asiatic  fashion  to  gratify  her  womanly  and 
regal  caprices.  There  were  also  special  services, 
thoroughly  Turkish,  with  all  their  environments. 
Upon  the  princely  dining  table  there  were  rare 
silver  services,  Broussa  silk  napkins,  embroidered 
with  gold  and  silver,  and  golden  dishes  studded 
with  turquoises,  and  everything  to  give  Oriental 
taste  and  tone  to  the  repast.  The  Sultanas  act- 
ually drank  champagne  to  the  Empress'  health. 
For  the  first  time,  these  Mussulman  ladies  sipped 
the  liquor  forbidden  by  Mahomet.  It  made  the 
young  hilarious  and  the  old  happy.  Singers  and 
dancers  gave  variety  to  the  regal  welcome.  The 
Empress  learned  to  smoke  cigarettes,  perfumed 
with  Orient  odors.  She  had  near  her  two  charm- 
ing young  women  of  the  East,  as  interpreters  and 
companions.  One  of  them  was  Nazli  Hanoum, 
a  princess  of  Egypt,  and  grand-daughter  of  Me- 
hemet  Ali.  Her  life  since  these  joyous  scenes 
has  had  its  mournful  experiences.  One  of  these  is 
associated  with  the  writer.  It  came  innocently 
enough  from  our  courtesy  to  this  fair  Mahometan 
Albanian  at  Prinkipo,  which  led  to  certain  illegal 
proceedings  recorded  in  this  volume. 


268  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

There  is  a  kiosk,  almost  wholly  of  glass,  at  each 
end  of  the  sea-wall,  which  protects  the  palace 
grounds  of  Beylerbey.  The  interior  of  each  is 
furnished  with  a  broad  divan  in  blue  and  straw- 
colored  satin.  Behind  the  wall  there  are  terraced 
gardens  rising  in  tiers,  one  above  another,  where 
flowers  and  fountains  abound.  Upon  the  highest 
point  of  the  grounds  are  the  ostrich  gardens  ;  and 
formerly  there  was  a  rare  menagerie  there.  All 
the  animals  are  gone  except  the  ostriches  and  a 
lone  tiger.  I  emphasize  the  tiger.  Hereby  hangs 
my  tale. 

The  palace  is  upon  the  lower  terrace  of  the 
garden,  not  far  from  the  Bosphorus.  It  is  a 
building  of  three  stories.  It  is  of  pure  white 
marble.  It  is  ornate  in  style.  It  is  not  palatial 
in  extent,  but  it  is  a  gem  of  Oriental  architecture. 
The  broad  vestibule  leads  into  a  grand  central 
chamber  which  is  lighted  from  the  roof.  Here 
is  a  staircase  of  unequalled  beauty  and  superb 
decoration.  Marble  columns  support  the  galleries 
of  the  floors  above.  Walls,  floor  and  ceiling  are  of 
marble.  It  the  centre  of  the  main  hall  is  a  grand 
fountain,  with  innumerable  jets  shooting  their 
sheafs  of  silver  with  a  murmurous  music  into  the 
quiet  air. 

From  this  central  hall  various  rooms  open. 
Here  the  Grand  Duke  Nicholas,  after  the  treaty 
of  San  Stefano  had  relieved  the  city  from  Russian 


THE  TIGER,— IN  ROYAL  STATE. 


269 


occupation,  held  high  court  and  carnival,  following 
the  example  of  the  Empress  Eugenie.  Here  rat- 
tled and  clanked  over  the  marble  pavements  the 
spurs  and  sabres  of  the  Russian  officers.  Here  the 
then  young  Sultan,  Abdul  Hamid,  came  to  make  his 
courtesies  to  the  Czar's  representative. 

But  of  more  vital  interest  to  me  than  all  these 
scenes  of  departed  pomp  and  pageantry  was  the 
last  remaining  animal  of  the  Sultan  Abdul  Aziz's 
menagerie.  He  was  a  royal  Bengal  tiger.  I  made 
my  homage  to  his  royalty  as  he  couched  and  pant- 
ed in  his  confinement.  "  He  was  the  sole  relic  of 
old  Priam's  pride  ! " 

It  is  not  unusual  in  the  palaces  around  Con- 
stantinople to  illustrate  the  parks  and  gardens 
with  some  very  vivid  pictures  of  natural  history. 
The  Sultan  has  within  his  grounds  at  Yildiz 
several  aviaries  of  rare  birds.  He  has  a  remarka- 
ble collection  of  pigeons,  and,  along  with  a  small, 
but  very  select,  menagerie,  some  200  fine  horses. 
These  horses  are  exercised  in  a  riding  school  where 
the  Circassian  guards  sometimes  exhibit  their  feats. 
His  Majesty  is  accustomed  to  shoot  wild  fowl, 
which  are  decoyed  to  his  little  lakes  within  the 
palace  enclosure.  And,  like  other  and  more  ultra- 
Oriental  princes  and  emperors  of  the  Tartar  race, 
he  occasionally  summons  for  his  recreation  a 
sweet  singer,  or  a  conjuror,  or  a  dwarf,  or  all -of 
these  together  ;  but  in  their  midst  a  young  tiger, 


270  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

whose  antics  are  more  terrifying  than  harmful,  is 
not  unfrequently  introduced  for  the  gratification  of 
the  company,  or  the  delight  of  the  harem. 

In  an  excursion  to  the  Bosphorus  from  our  Isle 
of  Prinkipo  I  had  the  honor  of  gallanting,  under 
a  special  firman  from  the  Sultan,  a  company  of 
some  twenty-five  ladies  and  gentlemen.  They 
were  mostly  of  American  nationality.  After 
observing  the  wonderful  riches  of  the  treasury  at 
Seraglio  Point,  with  all  its  crowns,  batons,  arms, 
scimitars,  robes  of  state  and  royal  jewellery,  and 
the  usual  touristic  visit  to  Dolma  Batche,  the  most 
beautiful  palace  in  the  world,  our  launch  bore  us 
across  the  Bosphorus  to  the  palace  of  Beylerbey. 
Sauntering  through  its  sylvan  shades  we  come  to 
the  ostrich  farm  upon  the  lofty  heights.  They 
may  be  tame  birds,  but  they  show  considerable 
fierceness  when  we  observe  them.  No  one  ven- 
tures in  their  midst.  But  what  most  attracts  our 
attention  here  is  a  cage,  some  forty  by  thirty  feet, 
in  which  is  confined  the  royal  tiger.  He  is  the 
prisoner  to  whom  I  have  referred  so  touchingly. 
No  doubt  he  has  many  strange  graces  and  accom- 
plishments and,  doubtless,  some  crimes  to  atone, 
but  I  am  not  sufficiently  ''close  to  His  Highness" 
to  note  his  graces  or  vices.  I  keep  a  respectful 
distance,  for  his  cage  looks  old  and  shaky.  Its 
iron  bars  are  suggestively  slim.  The  tiger  lies 
in  a  crouching  attitude  with  eyes  ablaze,  as  if 


AN  UNDIGNIFIED  RE  TREA  T.  2  7 1 

intent  on  gratifying  some  carnivorous  propensity. 
Some  of  the  company  playfully  pitch  pebbles  at 
him  to  arouse  him.  I  do  not.  I  stand  in  the 
middle  of  the  road. 

He  does  not  notice  the  rest  of  the  company. 
Evidently  he  desires  to  receive  no  one  of  less 
rank  than  a  Plenipotentiary.  Horresco  refer  ens  ! 
In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  he  springs,  not  at  any 
of  the  company,  but  at  the  Envoy!  In  fact,  this 
Oriental  monarch  would  have  the  American  Min- 
ister one  with  himself.  No  doubt  he  intended 
to  do  me  a  special  honor,  to  take  me  into  his 
embraces — to  fall  upon  my  neck  and  hug  me. 
But  what  would  my  democratic  constituents  think 
of  such  a  submission  to  an  autocrat?  This  selfish 
thought  comes  on  me  like  a  flash  of  light — an  in- 
spiration. I  turn  my  back  hurriedly  on  royalty. 
I  throw  diplomacy  to  the  winds.  I  flee  "  the  pre- 
sence "  with  a  celerity  and  certainty  that  were  never 
surpassed  on  the  swiftest  "star  route"  of  the 
plains.  When  the  company  assembles  at  the 
palace  below,  to  re-embark  on  the  launch,  I  am 
told,  amidst  much  hilarious  chaffing,  that  I  had  out- 
stripped the  swiftest  flight  of  Mercury.  But  I 
maintain  that  in  spite  of  the  succulent  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  pounds  of  our  cavass,  and  other 
weighty  persons  present,  including  some  unctuous 
females,  the  tiger  showed  a  royal  discrimination  in 
picking  out  a  Minister  Plenipotentiary  for  his  prey. 


2/2 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


"  Afraid  ? "  What !  an  American  afraid  of  a  royal 
personage?  Never !  Besides  I  had  no  time  for 
fear.  "Undignified  retreat?"  Let  me  amend. 
It  was  not  a  "  retreat."  It  was  more  like  one  of 
General  Joe  Lane's  field  evolutions,  of  Kansas 
fame.  It  was  a  swift  countermarch  in  the  face  of 
the  enemy,  executed  in  the  most  dashing  style  to 
the  rear ! 

I  once  came  upon  two  grizzlies  in  California; 
they  were  in  a — cage.  I  never  loved  a  fero- 
cious animal  outside  of  a  cage  or  menagerie.  I 
have  never  seen  any  such  in  a  state  of  nature, 
except  a  supposititious  hyena  in  upper  Egypt 
among  the  tombs,  and  a  jackal  between  Jaffa 
and  Jerusalem.  I  met  the  latter  by  moonlight 
alone,  but  I  loved  him  not.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  see  the  tiger  in  his  lair  to  appreciate  his 
moral  qualities.  I  have  talked  with  wild  Kabyles 
in  Algiers,  and  with  officers  of  the  British 
army  from  South  Africa,  and  have  heard  them 
detail  their  lion-hunting  adventures. 

One  of  the  officers  of  the  British  Indian 
army  told  me  a  story  worth  repeating.  It  was 
about  the  famous  Jaagt  in  the  Island  of  Singa- 
pore. He  was  a  man-eater  ;  I  mean  the  Jaagt.  I 
will  let  this  son  of  Mars — the  officer — relate  his 
adventure  in  his  own  grandiose  style,  and  with  all 
its  Brobdignagian  proportions.  He  describes  the 


THE  FAMOUS  MAN-EA  TER. 

tiger  as  running  through  the  jungle — away  from 
him. 

"  As  soon  as  I  saw "  said  the  British  officer, 
"  his  eyes  burning  like  coals  of  fire,  I  knew  he 
was  the  famous  man-eater.  He  had  a  little  child 
in  his  fangs,  and,  upon  my  honor,  was  about  to 
leap  over  one  of  the  pits,  which  are  sometimes 
dug  in  the  jungles,  and^bear  it  off  to  his  fastness 
among  the  rocks  of  the  hills  !  My  first  impulse 
was  to  open  fire  on  the  brute  with  my  sixteen-shot 
revolving  breech-loader  rifle,  but  when  I  saw  the 
child,  I  hesitated." 

Here  I  raise  my  hands  in  holy  horror,  and  my 
eyes  express  the  utmost  concern  as  the  officer 
resumes  : — 

"I  hesitate,"  said  he,  "but  a  short  time.  I 
pick  out  a  spot  where  the  intermaxillary  joins 
the  temporal  bone.  I  fire.  The  child  drops  un- 
harmed from  the  tiger's  broken  jaws  !  It  is  one 
of  the  best  shots  of  my  life ! 

"This  shot  brings  the  ferocious  animal  to  bay. 
I  see  the  great  gouts  of  blood,  dropping  from 
his  jaws  as  he  lashes  his  sides  furiously  with 
his  royal  tail !  He  crouches  for  a  spring.  Is  he 
not  a  royal  specimen?  His  side  shines  in  the 
sun  like  satin  striped  with  burnished  gold.  I  am 
almost  dazzled  with  its  brilliancy.  I  do  not  want 
to  spoil  such  a  trophy.  I  aim  for  his  eye.  I  send 
a  bullet  into  his  brain,  just  as  he  makes  his  spring. 

18 


274 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


He  falls  stone  dead  at  my  feet  !  I  restore  the 
child,  a  beautiful  boy,  to  its  distracted  mother  who 
lives  in  a  bungalow,  near  by.  Upon  my  honor, 
the  sight  of  the  lady's  joy  and  gratitude  over  her 
rescued  child  almost  unmans  me.  She  is  the 
wife  of  a  huzzar  officer.  I  order  one  of  my 
retinue  to  remove  the  hide  from  the  slain  animal. 
I  present  it  to  her  a  few  days  afterwards  for  a  rug. 
I  would  not  have  taken  a  thousand  pounds  for  it." 

But  this  was  not  the  end  of  the  gallant  officer's 
tiger  story.  After  a  moment  of  suspicious  silence 
on  our  part,  he  said  : 

"  Do  you  know,  gentlemen,  I  have  some- 
times been  slightly  embarrassed  at  the  suspicion 
with  which  those  unfamiliar  with  life  in  the 
jungle  receive  our  accounts  of  its  adventures? 
Now,  mark  the  sequel.  Twenty  years  after  this 
incident,  I  was  in  the  smoking  saloon  of  one  of 
the  Peninsula  and  Oriental  steamers,  with  a  lot  of 
officers  and  civilians  on  their  way  out  to  India. 
We  were  whiling  away  the  evening,  comparing 
our  hunting  reminiscences.  Among  other  exploits, 
I  recounted  this  adventure  in  Singapore.  Just  as 
I  finished  it,  a  little  ensign  whom  I  had  noticed 
listening  to  the  story  with  strange  excitement  of 
manner,  springs  from  his  seat  with  uncontrollable 
emotion.  He  runs  to  me.  He  throws  himself  into 
my  arms.  He  exclaims  : 

"  '  General !    general !     I   am  that  rescued  child, 


EA RL  Y PARTIALITY  FOR  FELINES. 


275 


and  the  lady  is  my  mother  !  She  cherishes  that 
tiger  robe  as  the  chief  of  her  choicest  treasures ! 
Oh  !  my  brave,  brave,  preserver !  Have  I  found 
you  at  last  ?'  If  you  can  credit  it,  there  was  not 
a  dry  eye  in  the  party." 

I  relate  the  brave  officer's  story,  not  alone  for 
its  own  interest,  but  in  order  that  its  moral  shall 
maintain  the  veracity  of  my  own  tiger  tale.  It  is 
with  great  reluctance  that  I  tell  it.  I  would  not 
be  discredited.  Still  I  have  a  suspicion  that  that 
officer  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  Ananias  and  Sap- 
phira;  and  that  the  young  ensign  displayed  fine 
histrionic  talent. 

Nearly  every  one  in  his  callow  youth  has  a  par- 
tiality for  an  animal.  Some  take  to  a  horse,  some 
to  a  squirrel,  some  to  a  dog,  some  to  a  parrot  and 
some  to  a  canary.  My  partiality  was  always  for  a 
cat.  There  is  something  in  the  affectionate  nature 
of  the  cat,  whose  purring  leads  one  unconsciously 
and  gradually  on  toward  a  tender  regard  for  its 
congener — the  tiger!  In  visiting  the  menagerie,  I 
always  look  first  for  the  tiger's  cage.  Look  into 
any  book  upon  vertebrated  animals  at  the  figure 
of  the  tiger !  You  will  see  it  pictured  as  a  model 
of  strength  and  grandeur.  The  ancients  said  that 
the  peacock  was  the  most  beautiful  among  birds 
and  the  tiger  among  animals.  Where  is  the  ani- 
mal of  its  size  that  can  leap  so  easily  as  the  tiger, 
four  times  its  own  length  ?  It  is  said  while  its 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

physiognomy  is  far  from  fierce  and,  unlike  the 
lion,  is  of  a  placid  and  pleasing  air, — that  no  cor- 
rection can  terrify,  and  no  indulgence  tame  it. 
But  it  is  erroneous  to  suppose  that  the  tiger  is  un- 
tamable. Why  should  not  any  feline  be  tamable  ? 
The  cat  is  the  most  domestic  of  animals.  Shake- 
speare calls  it  the  "harmless  necessary  cat." 
Augustus,  the  Roman  emperor,  kept  a  tame  tiger, 
and  Claudius  had  four  of  them  at  a  time,  as  a 
royal  pleasure.  This  fact  is  verified  by  a  beauti- 
ful mosaic,  discovered  near  the  arch  of  Gallicius 
in  Rome.  Kean,  the  tragedian,  possessed  a  puma. 
It  is  a  fierce  feline.  It  followed  him  about  as 
docile  as  a  dog.  Sarah  Bernhardt  has  a  young 
cougar  as  her  playmate !  I  should  prefer  them 
when  quite  young. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  early  emperors  in 
Byzantium  to  have  a  tame  tiger  near  them.  The 
fakirs  of  Hindostan  have  the  secret  of  making 
tigers  as  tractable  as  kittens.  But  after  such  kit- 
tens come  to  the  age  of  discretion,  I  wrould  not 
play  with  them,  if  I  were  a  fakir.  As  a  general 
rule,  I  would  not  advise  either  emperor  or  fakir 
to  be  too  familiar  with  the  tiger.  Like  other 
specimens  of  royalty,  its  favor  is  fickle.  It  has 
the  trick  of  its  ancestry.  Through  caressing,  it 
may  be  tamed  for  a  time,  but  very  few  people 
either  in  or  outside  of  India  would  go  its  security 
to  keep  the  peace. 


RO  YAL  TY  AND  SIZE  OF  THE  TIGER.  2  77 

In  Asia  the  type  of  royalty  is  the  tiger.  In 
ancient  Rome,  the  symbol  of  empire  was  the 
eagle.  In  France,  it  is  a  rooster.  Is  it  not  Emer- 
son who  says  that  these  symbols  of  strength  are 
selected  from  the  predatory  kingdom  ?  It  may  not 
be  generally  known,  but  it  is  true,  that  the  beaver 
was  proposed  in  America  as  the  emblem  of  our 
hardworking,  industrious  and  sagacious  people ; 
but  the  beaver  was  laughed  out  of  our  national 
crest.  In  its  place  was  substituted  a  bald-headed 
robber. 

Not  being  able  to  account  for  the  tigerish  pro- 
pensity exhibited  toward  me  at  Beylerbey  by 
anything  that  I  had  ever  done  to  the  animal,  for 
I  always  defer  to  him,  even  in  a  menagerie,  by 
taking  off  my  hat  before  his  cage,  at  a  respectful 
distance,  it  at  last  occurred  to  me  that  I  had 
never  sufficiently  atoned  for  a  bit  of  school-boy 
composition.  Its  theme  was  "  The  Tiger."  I 
cannot  fully  recall  its  tenor,  but  it  did  not  do 
justice  to  the  magnificent  savagery  and  superlative 
strength  of  his  nature.  I  simply  said  that  it  was 
an  animal  three  feet  high  and  eight  feet  long. 
This  was  unjust.  Had  not  Buffon  seen  one  in 
the  East  Indies,  fifteen  feet  long?  This,  how- 
ever, included  the  tail.  "  Allowing"  says  the 
naturalist,  "  four  feet  for  that,  it  must  have  been 
eleven  feet  from  the  tip  of  the  nose  to  the  inser- 
tion of  the  tail."  Goldsmith  saw  one  in  the 


2;8  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

Tower  nine  feet  long.  I  am  now  satisfied,  from  a 
hasty  glance  in  the  cage  at  Beylerbey,  that  the 
tiger  is  at  least  twenty-five  feet  long  and  seven- 
teen feet  high  !  It  is  announced  in  books,  that 
he  has  a  yellow  hide,  and  an  average  of  some 
twenty-five  very  black  stripes.  I  am  now  satisfied 
that  the  hide  is  of  a  sanguinary  red  and  that  its 
ebony  stripes  may  be  counted  by  the  hundred. 
In  my  composition  I  related  how  it  was  the  object 
of  sportive  expeditions  in  Bengal ;  that  the  hunt- 
ers go  forth,  armed  with  rifles,  in  a  houdah,  on  the 
backs  of  trained  elephants  to  kill  the  tiger ;  and 
I  have  never  since  disassociated  the  elephant  from 
a  tiger.  The  general  opinion  is,  that  the  tiger 
springs  upon  the  elephant  to  reach  the  hunter. 
I  did  not  question  its  correctness  in  my  speedy 
movement  down  the  hill  of  Beylerbey.  My  tiger 
seemed  to  have  elephantine  proportions.  As  the 
Irishman  said  of  the  elephant — it  had  a  tail  at  both 
ends  of  the  animal.  My  movement  at  that  par- 
ticular juncture  outdid  any  latter-day  toboggan 
slide.  It  gave  rise  to  an  excess  of  specific  levity, 
from  my  companions  ;  but  I  gave  to  the  retreat 
all  my  specific  gravity.  It  was  accelerated  by  a 
wild  scream  from  the  animal,  more  horrid  than  the 
roar  of  the  lion :  tigrides  indomitce,  rugiuntque 
leones.  I  had  yielded  to  the  indomitable.  Is  it 
Byron,  or  some  one  else,  who  says  :  "  There  is  a 
pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods."  I  never  enjoyed 


A  LITERARY  TIGER.  27Q 

myself  in  palatial  grounds  so  much  as  I  did  on  my 
retreat  from  the  caged  animal  at  Beylerbey ;  for  I 
went  down  through  the  terraced  groves  regard- 
less of  paths.  I  did  not  retreat  before  an  ordi- 
nary, unrenowned  beast.  No  !  I  learn  that  this 
is  the  identical  tiger  referred  to  in  a  volume  by 
Lieutenant  Greene  of  the  United  States  Army. 
He  saw  it  in  1878,  after  the  Russian  war.  He 
speaks  of  it  as  "a  far-famed  tiger  of  great  beauty 
and  wonderful  size."  So  that  this  hero  of  the  jungle 
is  not  unknown  to  literature.  How  often  has  he 
avoided  the  poise  of  the  spear  in  his  native  home  ! 
How  often  has  he  leaped  upon  the  Jumbos  of  the 
jungle  !  Of  this  there  is  no  record.  It  is  said 
that  death  and  the  gods  are  shod  so  softly  that 
their  tread  is  silent.  The  paw  of  the  tiger  has 
death  beneath  its  velvet.  But  when  I  fled  from 
his  paw  I  took  courage  from  this  comforting 
verse  about  the  Pale  Horse  and  his  rider: 

"  —. poisoned  with  a  kitten's  claw, 


The  man  escaped  the  tiger's  jaw  !  " 

Tiger-hunting  was  always  a  favorite  diversion 
with  me — in  books.  I  have  read  Captain  Shake- 
spear's  "Wild  Sports  of  India."  I  had  followed 
him  upon  the  elephant.  I  became  as  brave  as  a 
Shikarree  up  a  tree,  with  a  bullock  below  for  a 
bait,  and  a  "man-eater"  crouching  in  the  thicket 


2gO  T<HE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

— but  this  was  in  a  book  !  I  have  swallowed 
many  of  the  swelling1  tales  of  the  Nimrods  of  the 
British  Indian  army;  and  have  blessed  the  intelli- 
gent lungoor-baboon,  which  warns  other  animals 
of  the  feline  approach,  by  swinging  with  prehen- 
sile grasp  from  tree  to  tree,  uttering  much  Simian 
profanity. 

The  roar  of  the  tiger  and  the  trumpeting  of  the 
elephant  give  a  resounding  glory  to  the  hunt  of 
the  tiger.  The  more  distant  these  notes  of  battle 
to  my  ear,  the  better !  I  was  told  in  Northern 
Africa,  by  a  Gascon  resident,  that  the  lion  killers 
run  little  risk,  as  they  take  care  to  gorge  the  ani- 
mal with  a  calf  or  so  before  attacking  him.  In 
reading  up  the  literature  of  the  tiger,  I  am  inclin- 
ed, from  my  experience  at  Beylerbey,  to  make  a 
series  of  rules,  nunc  pro  tune,  for  the  governance 
of  the  tiger  hunt,  seriatim  thus  : 

RULE  I.  If  the  tiger  be  interrupted  by  the  ap- 
proach of  any  other  animal,  do  not  try  to  shoot  at 
the  other  beasts.  How  any  hunter  can  coolly  look 
at  a  tiger,  selecting  the  best  place  in  his"  body  for 
the  bullet,  is  to  me  marvellous  ;  yet  I  have  read  of 
hunters  scanning  his  withers  and  girth,  locating  his 
lung,  liver  and  vertebrae,  with  as  much  sangfroid 
as  if  the  burning  of  his  optic  coals  were  not  vital 
with  savagery. 

RULE  II.  Scan,  with  heed,  the  anatomy  of  the 
head,  before  going  for  the  brain. 


RULES  FOR  TIGER  HUNTING.  28l 

RULE  III.  In  the  selection  of  a  spot  to  which  to 
tie  a  heifer  as  bait,  find  a  place  near  a  lofty  and 
easily  climbed  tree. 

RULE  IV.  Do  not  forget  to  grease  the  trunk  of 
the  tree  behind  you  as  you  climb  up. 

RULE  V.  Approach  the  tiger,  if  at  all,  when  it 
is  sleeping. 

RULE  VI.  If  this  be  not  profitable,  carry  a  vial 
of  chloroform.  This  conquers  the  nervousness  of 
the  animal,  but  it  requires  more  nerve  for  its  ap- 
plication than  some  Nimrods  possess. 

RULE  VII.  If  your  elephant  meet  a  tiger  and, 
being  frightened,  runs  into  a  tree  and  upsets  the 
houdah,  do  not  stop  to  rearrange  the  elephant. 
Leave  yourself  for  the  nearest  tree.  Such  a  ti- 
ger is  not  worth  a  scent.  Let  him  go  ! 

RULE  VIII.  When  you  see  a  tiger  in  the  gloam- 
ing sharpening  his  claws  against  a  forest  tree,  see 
that  your  native  aids  go  ahead  to  absorb  his  un- 
divided attention.  They  are  not  expensive. 

RULE  IX.  If  you  perceive  the  tiger  to  be  dead, 
do  not  be  in  a  hurry  about  skinning  him.  He 
has  been  known  to  punish,  after  death.  I  have 
read  well  authenticated  cases  of  tigers  whose  aorta 
or  cerebrum  have  been  fatally  shot ;  but  the  tiger 
easily  overcomes  the  vis  inertice. 

RULE  X.  When  you  desire  to  sit  on  a  damp 
mound  in  an  Indian  jungle,  to  watch  for  tigers, 
arm  yourself  with  quinine  balls. 


282  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

RULE  XL  When  the  tiger  charges,  as  mine  did 
at  Beylerbey,  with  his  ears  back  and  his  body  al- 
most even  with  the  ground,  do  not  try  to  subdue 
him  with  a  piercing  glance  of  your  own  masterful 
eye. 

RULE  XII.  If  it  be  a  tigress  that  charges,  do 
not  rely  too  much  on  the  gentleness  of  her  sex. 
She  is  not  a  cold  blooded  animal  like  the  bear  and 
she  warms  to  her  bloody  work. 

RULE  XIII.  When  you  are  advised  by  your 
Shikarree  that  the  tiger  is  lying  in  a  wide  open 
space,  where  the  grass  is  higher  than  your  head, 
do  not  go  into  the  high  grass.  There  is  peril  in 
handling  the  gun  under  the  circumstances. 

RULE  XIV.  If  your  gun  is  a  repeater,  be  sure 
to  carry  more  than  one  charge ;  otherwise  you 
cannot  be  safely  regarded  as  having  a  battery  with 
you  for  the  assault  which  is  necessary. 

RULE  XV.  Be  sure  that  your  gun  has  proper 
penetrating  power  ;  for  the  tiger  is  a  mass  of 
sinew,  muscle  and  bone. 

RULE  XVI.  Do  not  negotiate  the  tiger's  skin 
prematurely ;  for  you  may  discover  before  you 
commence  skinning  that  you  have  only  tickled 
his  hide  with  a  non-lethal  weapon. 

RULE  XVII.  In  removing  the  tiger's  skin,  un- 
der the  belief  that  he  is  dead,  better  commence  at 
the  tail,  as  many  tigers  have  been  known  to  re- 
vive at  the  other  end,  under  the  operation. 


MORE  RULES. 


283 


RULE  XVIII.  Do  not  attack  the  tiger  without 
a  breech-loader  ;  for  if  you  should  in  your  nervous- 
ness pour  the  powder  in  on  top  of  the  wad,  you 
might  obscure  your  vision  of  the  tiger,  and  he 
would  likely  have  an  advantage,  owing  to  his  pe- 
culiar eyesight,  enhanced  after  the  manner  of  bur- 
glars, by  prowling  at  night.  In  case  of  such  ob- 
scuration, wait  until  a  wind  arises  to  blow  off  the 
smoke  before  renewing  the  attack. 

RULE  XIX.  Do  not  cultivate  a  mercenary 
spirit  as  the  inspiration  of  a  tiger-hunt.  Although 
the  Indian  Government  may  offer  a  large  reward 
for  the  skull  of  this  ferocious  beast,  it  is  well  to 
cultivate  a  disinterested  spirit.  Give  all  your 
mind  to  the  sportive  exhilaration. 

RULE  XX.  It  is  well  to  have  at  least  twenty 
elephants  in  line  before  you  charge  on  the  jungle ; 
otherwise,  the  contest  may  be  unequal. 

RULE  XXI.  When  the  tiger  screams,  it  is  well  to 
consider  it  as  an  intimation  that  he  has  prepared 
his  dinner  and  wishes  to  dine  alone. 

RULE  XXII.  If  you  are  surrounded  by  a  tiger 
and  a  tigress  and  several  cubs,  and  escape  through 
what  the  East  Indians  call  the  "  swearing "  of  a 
common  monkey,  remember  to  treat  the  monkey 
thereafter  with  respect.  Do  not,  in  addressing 
him,  use  the  word  "  monkey."  When  you  speak 
of  or  to  him,  call  him  the  Semnopithecus  Entellus. 

RULE  XXIII.    Inasmuch  as  the  peacock  is  in- 


284 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


digenous  to  the  forests  of  India  where  tigers  most 
do  congregate,  and  is  a  rival  of  the  tiger  for  beauty 
of  form  and  color,  and  besides  is  an  ally  of  the 
monkey  in  warning  other  animals,  including  man, 
of  the  dangerous  proximity  of  the  enemy,  speak 
of  the  .peacock  with  respect.  Praise  its  melodious 
voice  and  dilate  on  its  tail.  Its  vociferous 
"  hauk  !  "  "  hauk  !  "  should  not  be  repeated  in  vain. 
It  deserves  recognition.  These  birds  of  Vanity 
and  Juno  are  friends  of  mankind.  They  deserve 
recognition  in  a  tiger  country. 

RULE  XXIV.  If  a  superannuated  jackal,  who 
has  been  expelled  from  his  pack,  makes  its  famil- 
iar yell,  look  out  for  the  tiger!  It  is  his  lackey. 
It  feeds  upon  his  leavings. 

RULE  XXV.  When  chasing  the  tiger,  and  find- 
ing him  in  full  retreat,,  if  he  stops,  as  he  some- 
times will,  to  tear  up  the  tufts  of  grass  hilariously 
to  clean  his  nails,  raise  the  banner  of  non-interven- 
tion as  an  American  gentleman,  and  quote  Horace 
ad  unguem. 

RULE  XXVI.  If  you  have  enough  elephants  in 
your  retinue  to  carry  some  coal-oil  tar,  it  would  be 
a  matter  of  safety  to  agglutinate  the  tiger's  eyes 
and  ears,  for  that  operation  has  the  same  effect  on 
a  tiger  as  tarring  and  feathering  on  an  unhappy 
human  wretch,  where  Judge  Lynch  holds  court. 

RULE  XXVII.  If  your  company  is  noisy 
enough  with  their  cries,  drums,  cymbals  and 


HA  UNTED  B  Y  TIGERS. 


285 


other  clangorous  music,  retire  from  the  hunt.  You 
may  thereby  soften,  if  not  frighten,  the  ferocity 
out  of  the  tiger. 

As  a  final  suggestion.  After  you  have  him 
thoroughly  dead,  singe  his  whiskers  !  Otherwise 
he  will  haunt  you.  I  need  not  say  that  my  ex- 
perience at  Beylerbey  was  of  similar  import.  I 
was,  and  am  still,  haunted  by  this  animal.  In  my 
dreams  I  picture  him  in  every  attitude — crouching, 
standing,  and  fighting  with  fang  and  claw,  as  a 
royal  animal  whose  only  type  in  the  human  family 
is  found  in  such  scourges  as  Genghis  Khan,  or 
Timour,  the  Lame  Tartar. 

I  return  to  Prinkipo  after  this  jaunt  more  or 
less  timid  about  animals,  especially  the  "  felinae." 
This  timidity  is  increased  by  an  adventure  with 
a  watch-dog  in  our  villa.  He  has  returned  and 
finds  us  as  new  occupants.  As  a  good  dog  he 
resents  our  tenancy.  He  bites  the  tenant. 

Our  front  gate  is  not  latched.  It  is  pushed 
gently  open  and  a  dog  bounds  in.  I  am  in  the 
arbor  with  my  wife.  The  gardener  rushes  in  to 
catch  the  dog.  But  the  dog  has  only  come  to  his  old 
home.  He  is  likely  cross  by  reason  of  his  exile. 
We  had  stipulated  that  he  should  be  taken  away 
from  the  villa.  The  cook  and  the  maid  said  he 
would  not  bite.  They  gave  him  something  to  eat 
while  we  collected  around  him.  The  cook  said  : 

"  Why  don't  you  caress  him,  and  he  will  soon 
know  you." 


286  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

I  venture  to  do  so.  In  a  moment  he  snaps 
savagely,  but  happily  the  stiff  shirt  wristbands 
and  doubled  up  sleeve  of  my  woollen  undershirt 
take  the  grip  of  the  teeth.  Only  a  slight  scratch 
appears  on  the  wrist,  without  breaking  the  skin. 
The  indentation  of  the  teeth  is  exquisitely  shown 
on  the  stiff  wristband.  He  is  no  apprentice  in 
the  art  of  printing — this  dog. 

I  resort  to  the  library  for  consolation.  I  peruse 
Buff  on,  Jardine  and  Goldsmith.  At  last  I  find 
consolation  in  Aristophanes  who,  in  speaking  of 
another  wild  beast,  advises  in  his  comic  vein 
to  have  nothing  to  do  with  such  creatures ;  and 
especially,  to  "let  the  tigress  suckle  her  own 
whelps." 

As  a  sportsman,  in  the  literature  of  tiger-hunt- 
ing, I  close  this  chapter  with  a  regrettable  an- 
nouncement. The  famous  Parsee  tiger  slayer, 
Hormusjee  Eduljee  Kotewal,  has  just  died  in  a 
Bombay  hospital  from  the  effects  of  "a  mauling 
by  a  cheetah."  Ah  !  had  he  been  a  good  Parsee ; 
had  he  carried  with  him  a  bottle  of  naphtha  from 
Baku,  or  a  jug  of  coal  tar  from  Oil  City,  how 
easily  he  could  have  subdued  the  cheetah  !  The 
Bhandsa  State  would  not  now  be  in  tears  over  the 
death  of  its  brave  forest  inspector.  He  died  game. 
His  record  is  high.  He  shot,  during  life,  a  hun- 
dred tigers.  Peace  to  all  their  ashes  ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ACROSS  THE  CHANNEL  OF    PRINKIPO HANNIBAL    AND 

HIS  GRAVE. 

SOMETIMES  I  add  a  volume  to  my  repertory, 
fresh  from  the  mint  of  London  or  Paris,  which 
is  *  perused  under  conditions  of  indolence  and 
seclusion.  One  of  these  volumes,  which  held  me 
by  its  fascination  and  glitter  of  style,  its  wealth  of 
research  and  strangeness  of  learning  was  Flaubert's 
"  Salambo."  It  opens  the  mystic  chambers  of 
Phoenician  life.  It  gives  new  glimpses  of  the 
Commercial  Republic  in  her  pristine  days.  It 
presents  the  strange  religious  rites  of  Asia  and 
Africa  in  their  wildest  orgies.  It  displays  Car- 
thage when  she  was  the  rival  of  Rome,  in  an 
aspect  to  make  others  weep  with  Marius  over  her 
ruins.  The  volume  is  very  realistic,  especially 
when  read  in  sight  of  those  Bithynian  shores 
where  the  merchant  princes  of  Carthage  once 
traded,  and  where  their  conquering  triremes  often 
swept  through  the  waters  of  the  Propontis. 

"  Salambo  "  is  the  bewitched  and  beauteous 
daughter  of  the  great  Hamilcar.  Her  counterpart 
one  may  see  at  the  Greek  church  or  at  the  scala 

287 


288  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

every  day  here  at  Prinkipo.  I  confess  to  a  dis- 
appointment in  the  volume,  however,  for  the  hero 
of  my  youthful  enthusiasm,  Hannibal,  the  .famous 
son  of  HamilcaF  Barca,  is  barely  mentioned. 
True,  he  was  but  a  youth  when  the  stirring  scenes 
of  the  war  with  the  mercenaries,  of  which  the 
book  treats,  was  in  progress.  Still  the  intrepid 
boy  is  sufficiently  outlined  for  the  reader  to  see 
him  as  "  father  to  the  man." 

Hamilcar  was  often  put  to  straits  to  save  Hanni- 
bal from  the  demands  of  the  priests  of  Moloch. 
They  sought  their  human  victims  among  the  sons 
of  the  eminent.  The  learned  novelist  makes  the 
teacher  and  guardian  of  the  boy  come  from  that 
mysterious  shore  which  is  peopled  with  turtles, 
which  sleep  under  the  palms  on  the  dunes.  The 
faithful  Iddibal  enters  the  presence  of  the  anxious 
father  to  render  an  account  of  his  stewardship  over 
the  boy.  "  No  one  yet  suspects  ?  "  The  old  guar- 
dian swears  that  the  mystery  has  been  kept.  "  I 
teach  him  to'  hurl  the  javelin  and  to  drive  a  team." 
"  He  is  strong — is  he  not  ?  "  asks  the  proud  and 
anxious  father.  "Yes,  Master,  and  intrepid  as 
well !  He  has  no  fear  of  serpents,  thunder  or 
phantoms.  He  runs  bare-footed  like  a  herdsman 
along  the  brink  of  lofty  precipices.  He  invents 
snares  for  wild  beasts.  In  the  last  moon  he  sur- 
prised an  eagle.  The  animal,  in  its  fury,  en- 
wrapped him  in  the  beating  of  its  wings  ;  he 


YOUNG  HANNIBAL. 

strained  it  against  his  breast ;  and  as  it  died,  his 
laughter  increased." 

Hamilcar  bent  his  head,  well  pleased  at  these 
presages  of  his  son's  greatness!  "But"  resumed 
the  teacher,  "the  boy  has  been  for  some  time 
restless  and  disturbed.  He  gazes  at  the  sails 
passing  far  out  at  sea.  He  is  often  melancholy. 
He  rejects  food.  He  inquires  too  much  about 
the  gods ;  and  he  wishes  to  become  acquainted 
with  Carthage.  How  is  he  to  be  restrained  ?  I 
have  to  make  him  promises.  I  now  come  to  Car- 
thage to  buy  him  a  dagger  with  a  silver  handle  set 
'in  pearls." 

This  is  one  glimpse  at  the  boyhood  of  the  Car- 
thaginian hero,  who  made  "  Rome  howl "  in  the 
might  of  his  glorious  manhood.  What  a  career 
was  his  !  And  how  tragic  in  its  ending, — like  that 
of  all  the  great  conquerors — Alexander,  Caesar, 
Napoleon  !  He  became  a  prisoner  on  yonder 
shore  of  Bithynia.  It  is  just  across  the  channel  of 
Prinkipo.  There,  it  is  said,  in  the  so-called  castle 
of  Hannibal,  he  took  poison  and  died. 

There  is  a  romance  about  Hannibal  which  had 
strange  attraction  for  me  when  I  was  a  child.  I 
felt  a  pity  for  the  little  boy  when  his  father,  just 
before  journeying  with  him  to  Spain  and  when  he 
was  only  nine  years  of  age,  dedicated  him  at  the 
altar  to  an  eternal  Nemesis  against  Rome  !  I  at- 
tached myself  to  his  fortunes  and  gloried  in  his  tri- 
19 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

umphs.  How  he  subdued  the  Spanish  princes  ; 
how  he  aroused  the  Roman  senators  by  his  suc- 
cesses ;  how,  after  protecting  Africa  and  Spain,  he 
moved  on  to  Italy  ;  how  he  crossed  the  Pyrenees 
with  half  a  hundred  thousand  footmen  and  n,ooo 
horses ;  how  he  deceived  Scipio,  and  how  he  crossed 
the  Alps  into  the  valley  of  the  Dora  Balteau,— 
each  incident  is  a  romantic  chapter  with  a  lofty 
climax,  which  must  always  allure  the  fancy  of  the 
young  and  amaze  the  mind  of  the  old.  At  Cannae 
he  played  havoc  by  destroying  70,000  men.  Italy, 
almost  Rome  herself,  succumbed  to  him. 

The  immense  sacrifices  and  movements  of  these 
ancient  rivals  so  disturb  the  even  flow  of  history, 
that  we  almost  forget  Philip  of  Macedon  and  his  son. 
The  brother  of  Hannibal  joined  him  in  Italy,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Metaurus,  where  his  army  was  worsted 
and  the  brother  was  killed.  Then  Hannibal  was 
on  the  defensive.  Never  in  the  annals  of  mankind 
was  there  such  a  long  campaign  as  he  made  in  a 
hostile  country,  without  assistance  from  home. 
When  Hannibal  withdrew  from  Italy  he  was  met 
and  beaten  by  Scipio,  and  thus  ended  the  second 
Punic  war.  Then  Scipio  began  those  services  by 
which  he  attained  the  civic  crown.  These  events 
happened  more  than  200  years  before  Christ.  It 
is  2069  years  since  that  tomb  across  the  Prinkipo 
channel  received  the  remains  of  this  wonderful 
soldier.  Rome  had  demanded  the  punishment  of 


BITHYNIA  AS  AN  ASYLUM.  2Ql 

Hannibal  as  a  disturber  of  the  public  peace.  He 
set  sail  for  the  land  of  his  Phoenician  ancestors. 
He  landed  at  Tyre.  After  some  adventures  at 
or  near  Ephesus,  he  sought  these  shores,  made 
memorable  by  the  siege  of  Troy,  and  since  the 
scene  of  many  contests  of  priest  and  king,  caliph 
and  emperor.  He  was  received  at  the  court  of 
the  king  of  Bithynia,  whose  realm  extended  from 
the  Euxine  and  Propontis,  on  the  north  and  west, 
eastward,  and  including  those  places  now  famous 
for  their  ecclesiastical  history — Nicomedia  and 
Nicaea.  Its  people  were  Greek  colonists.  Their 
descendants  to-day  are  Greeks.  The  inland,  as 
we  see  it  from  Prinkipo,  is  mountainous.  It  was 
then,  and  is  yet,  wooded.  Near  the  sea  there  are 
fertile  plains,  which  2000  years  ago  were  in  a  high 
state  of  cultivation,  with  villages  sprinkled  over 
its  plains  and  slopes.  Along  its  shore,  toward 
Ismid,  there  is  a  railroad  whose  rumble  invades  the 
ear  as  I  write.  It  is  an  unaccustomed  sound 
in  the  Orient.  It  is  tempered  by  the  moaning 
of  the  wind  through  the  pine  trees  of  Prinkipo. 

It  was  in  this  land  of  Bithynia  that  Hannibal  at 
last  found  asylum.  A  Roman  embassy  went  to 
the  king  and  demanded  him.  For  fear  of  falling 
into  the  hands  of  his  enemy,  to  whose  destruction 
he  had  been  dedicated  fifty-six  years  before,  he 
destroys  himself.  This  event  happens  at  Nico- 
media, then  the  capital  of  Bithynia,  and  now 


2^2  TKE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

known  as  Ismid.  It  is  at  the  eastern  end  of  the 
gulf  of  that  name,  to  which,  every  day,  I  see  the 
Turkish  postal  steamer  voyaging,  with  its  solitary 
white  plume  of  vapor  floating  over  the  sea  be- 
tween the  snowy  range  of  Olympus  and  the 
wooded  heights  of  our  enchanted  isle. 

This  son  of  Hamilcar  Barca,  the  Thunder- 
bolt, almost  fulfilled  his  destiny.  He  only  failed 
to  make  Carthage — the  mistress  of  the  world — vice 
Rome  conquered.  He  reduced  Rome  to  a  dire 
emergency.  Hasdrubal,  his  brother,  rolled  down 
the  Alps  with  an  army  that  gathered  like  an 
avalanche  as  he  moved  into  Lombardy.  What 
with  his  elephants  and  troops,  with  which  he  had 
left  Gaul,  he  drew  tribe  after  tribe  of  the  cis-Alpine 
Celts  to  his  standards.  But  the  Roman  senate 
had  not  then  degenerated.  Rome  had  a  consul, 
Nero.  He  was  the  man  for  the  crisis.  He  was 
associated  with  old  Livius, — as  tough  and  obsti- 
nate an  old  Roman  as  ever  led  on  a  legion  or  rode 
in  a  triumphal  chariot.  Of  stores,  money  and  men 
Rome  had  been  drained.  Cannae  was  still  remem- 
bered. But  a  senate  which  had  voted  a  triumph 
to  its  defeated  soldiers,  and  never  despaired  of  the 
republic,  was  not  to  be  disturbed  by  panic. 
Although  Hannibal  was  in  the  south  and  his 
brother  in  the  north,  or,  in  the  language  of  that 
time,  although  two  Hannibals  were  in  the  field 
and  striving  by  all  the  arts  and  devices  of  skill  and 


THE  SONS  OF  THUNDER. 

strategy  to  draw  toward  each  other,  and  thus  to 
destroy  Rome  and  carry  out  with  strenuous  feroc- 
ity the  vow  made  by  their  father,  still  Rome  did 
not  despair.  After  much  pressing  the  Roman 
consuls  outwitted  the  "sons  of  Thunder."  It  was 
the  consuls  who  united.  It  was  the  double  Han- 
nibal who  was  separated. 

What  an  assemblage  was  that  army  of  Hasdru 
bal !  The  known  world  had  been  ransacked  for 
its  hordes.  Here  were  Iberian  Celts  in  white 
houmous;  their  brother  Gauls,  half  naked,  rank 
with  savage  Ligurians ;  mountaineers  of  the  mari- 
time Alps  from  Genoa  and  its  vicinity  ;  Nasamones 
from  the  region  of  Morocco  ;  spearmen  from  the 
Nile — and  Lotophagi,  who  lived  upon  a  fruit  that 
cured  home-sickness.  These  flank  the  Cartha- 
ginians "  in  cubic  phalanx  firm  advancing  "  in  the 
centre.  Numidian  horsemen  from  the  tribes  of  the 
desert  swarm  on  the  wings,  upon  unsaddled 
steeds.  The  van  of  the  army  is  made  up  of 
Balearic  slingers  from  Minorca  and  Majorca, 
whose  art  I  have  noticed  among  the  Kabyles  of 
Algiers.  The  artillery  is  in  the  line  of  colossal  ele- 
phants, guided  by  Ethiopians.  It  makes  a  living 
pachydermatous  wall  of  defence.  With  javelin, 
sword  and  spear,  the  soldiers  march  ;  with  mallet 
and  spike  the  elephant-drivers  ride,  ready  to  kill 
the  beast  when  it  becomes  unmanageable ! 

For  the  Roman  array  read  Gibbon's  first  chapter. 


294 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


In  divisions  of  1 200,  with  breast-plated  and  helmeted 
ranks  they  meet  the  enemy.  Their  red  crests  shine 
like  fire  in  the  light  of  battle.  Their  javelins  are 
light  and  are  easily  borne,  with  the  short-sword 
for  thrusting  and  cutting.  In  quiescent  order  the 
stern  legions  form.  Every  soldier  is  a  single  com- 
batant. Each  horseman  is  a  skirmisher.  Nero 
commands  the  right  wing,  Livius  the  left,  and 
Porcius,  the  praetor,  the  centre. 

History  records  this  great  test  of  Roman  valor 
by  recounting  the  defeat  and  death  of  Hasdrubal. 
The  head  of  the  defeated  general  is  carried  as  a 
trophy  upon  the  hurried  march  of  the  Roman 
army.  It  is  thrown  into  the  camp  of  Hannibal, 
who  then  looks  upon  his  brother's  face  for  the 
first  time  in  eleven  years.  Horace  pictures  the 
scene  in  his  verse,  and  Livy  tells  of  the  delir- 
ium of  Rome  over  the  result.  The  senate  is 
in  perpetual  session.  The  temples  are  filled 
with  worshippers.  Thanksgiving  is  proclaimed. 
Pleasure  and  business  revive.  Hannibal  remains 
in  the  land,  but  his  power  is  broken.  The  battle 
gives  Rome  two  centuries  of  triumphs.  Hannibal 
still  holds  Southern  Italy,  but  Rome  "has  con- 
quered. Carthago  delenda  est.  Still  it  is  this 
Hannibal — our  neighbor  of  Bithynia — who  was  the 
first  in  a  period  of  619  years,  according  to  Gib- 
bon, who  had  violated  the  seat  of  Roman  empire 
by  his  presence  as  a  foreign  enemy. 


ME  TAURUS— A  PIVOTAL  BATTLE.  2 

I  have   mentioned,   in  the  preceding  chapter,  a 
volume  by  Sir  Edward  Creasy.      It  is  entitled  the 
"  Fifteen  Decisive  Battles  of  the  World — from  Mar- 
athon  to  Waterloo."       He  makes    the   battle    of 
Metaurus    one  of   these   pivotal    battles,    because 
upon    it    hinged    the    supreme    power,    either    of 
Rome    or    Carthage.     The    historian    likens   the 
issue  to  that  of  Waterloo.     Napoleon  was  only  a 
later    Hannibal.       One    fought    seventeen    years 
against  Rome,  the  other  sixteen  against  England. 
The   historian  carries  the   parallel  even  to  Scipio 
and    Wellington.      When    Hasdrubal    fell    at    the 
Metaurus  the  fate  of  the  world  and  that  of  Han- 
nibal also  was   sealed.        It  was   not   a   struggle 
between  two  cities  or  empires,    but  between    the 
commercial  spirit  of  Africa  and  the  civilizing  laws 
of  Rome.       It  was  a  contest  between    the    Indo- 
Germanic  and  the  Semitic  family  of  nations  ;  be- 
tween  art  and   culture   on   one  hand,   and    indus- 
try and  adventure  on  the  other.     Everywhere  on 
the  historic  sea  which  surrounds  us  the  struggle 
was  witnessed.      Here  the   Phoenician    contended 
with  the  Greek  two  thousand  years  ago.     To-day 
the  congener  of  the  Phoenician,  the  Arab,  contests 
with    the    West.      Rome    annihilated     Carthage; 
will  the  Turk  remain  when  pressed  by  the  same 
potential  West  ? 

What  remains  of  Carthage?      The  periplus  of 
Hanno,  from  which   Flaubert  constructs  his  won- 


296 


THE  PRIXCES  ISLES. 


derful  novel ;  a  few  coins  ;  some  verses  in  Plautus  ; 
some  remnants  in  the  Franco- Phoenician  peninsula, 
and  the  fourth  ode  of  Horace  ! 

"  Quid  debeas  Roma,  Neronibus 
Testis  Metaurum  flumen  et  Hasdrubal 
Devictus.  " 

So  apocryphal  is  its  history  that  Byron  was 
compelled  to  rescue  from  the  oblivious  pen  of  the 
"Blind  Muse"  the  name  of  that  consul,  Nero, 
who  made  the  unequalled  march  which  deceived 
Hannibal  and  defeated  Hasdrubal.  To  this  vic- 
tory of  Nero  it  might  be  owing  that  his  imperial 
namesake  reigned  at  all.  But  the  infamy  of  the 
one  has  eclipsed  the  glory  of  the  other.  "  When 
the  name  of  Nero  is  heard,  who  thinks  of  the  con- 
sul?" 

So  I  may  say,  looking  across  the  Prinkipo  chan- 
nel, within  a  few  miles  of  the  rolling  plains  of 
Bithynia  : — 

Who,  in  looking  into  the  eternal  Oriental 
imbroglio,  would  dream  that  2000  years  ago  at 
Metaurus,  or  perhaps  at  Zama,  the  conflict  was 
begun,  and  temporarily  ended,  between  the  Indo- 
Arabic-Asiatic-Oriental  races  and  that  other  ele- 
mental force  which  we  now  call  "  the  West "  ;  and 
that  the  dust  of  the  Carthaginian  hero  who  once 
held  Rome  in  awe  reposes  in  yonder  little  dead 
kingdom  ?  Arnold  says,  "  The  victory  over  Han- 


ENTERPRISES  OF  CARTHAGE.  2    - 

nibal  at  Zama  made  it  possible  for  the  isolated 
city  of  Carthage,  thirty  years  later,  to  receive  and 
to  consolidate  the  civilization  of  Greece,  or  by  its 
laws  and  institutions  to  bind  together  barbarians 
of  every  race  and  language  into  an  organized  em- 
pire, and  prepare  them  for  becoming,  when  that 
empire  was  dissolved,  the  free  members  of  the 
commonwealth  of  Christian  Europe." 

Who  now  dreams  that  the  leader  of  that  Punic 
host  was  the  precursor  in  time — and  counting 
the  aeons,  how  brief  the  time — of  that  adven- 
ture which,  without  the  mariners'  compass  or 
steam,  followed  the  African  coast  far  beyond 
Sierra  Leone,  "  doubled  the  Cape,"  and  ex- 
plored the  coast  of  Norway  and  the  islands  of 
Albioni  and  Hiberni  !  Phoenician  navigators  an- 
ticipated the  Congo  and  other  enterprizes  into  Cen- 
tral Africa.  Their  fleets  made  a  great  trade  with 
the  tribes  of  the  terra  incognita.  Carthage,  when 
beaten  by  Greece  in  commerce  upon  these  shores 
—the  ^Egean,  the  Pontus,  Hellespont  and  Propon- 
tis — made  her  commercial  career  on  the  Western 
Mediterranean.  She  had  great  men  like  Hamilcar 
and  his  great  sons  ;  but  her  fall  was  signal  and 
calamitous.  She  was  too  much  commercial  and 
not  so  warlike  as  she  seemed.  Her  factions  rav- 
aged her  before  she  was  ruined  by  Rome.  She 
depended  too  much  on  hirelings.  The  rich  mer- 
chant— the  "  ancients,"  as  Flaubert  describes  them 


298 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


— fought  by  a  substitute  from  Minorca,  Greece, 
Gaul  or  Numidia.  There  was  a  tariff  on  life.  Her 
mercenaries,  like  the  Hessians  hired  by  George  III. 
to  fight  against  America  in  1776-7-8 — were  brave 
enough,  but  they  did  not  fight  like  the  sons  of  the 
soil,  contending  for  national  life  or  personal  ambi- 
tion. Zama  was  the  end  of  Carthage.  There  she 
yielded  her  sceptre. 

The  story  of  Hannibal  after  he  was  beaten  at 
Zama  by  the  Romans  loses  none  of  its  romance 
by  the  lapse  of  two  thousand  years.  He  first 
sought  refuge  at  the  court  of  King  Antiochus,  in 
Syria.  Afterwards  he  went  to  the  court  of  King 
Perseus,  of  Bithynia.  Here  he  was  betrayed  by 
one  of  the  legates  whom  Perseus  had  sent  to 
Rome.  Then  he  was  tracked  to  the  house  which 
Perseus  had  given  him.  There  he  had  lived  a 
lonely  life,  with  only  one  servant.  When  the  ser- 
vant informed  the  old  soldier  that  all  chance  of 
retreat  was  blocked  by  more  than  the  usual  num- 
ber of  soldiers  around  his  house,  he  gave  up  all 
hope  of  escape,  took  the  poison  which  he  carried 
with  him,  and  at  the  age  of  seventy,  in  the  year 
183  B.C.,  this,  the  most  remarkable  man  of  an- 
tiquity, next  to  Alexander  and  Caesar,  died. 

When  I  learned  that  the  grave  of  Hannibal  was 
very  near  our  vicinity,  I  happened  to  mention  it 
in  a  letter  to  America.  Thereupon  the  indepen- 
dent and  not  too  reverent  press  of  my  country 


MOURNING  AT  HANNIBAL'S  GRAVE.  2QO 

made  every  sort  of  picture  of  the  great  Carthagin- 
ian. Some  delineated  him  as  the  great  elephant 
of  that  name  in  Barnum's  show.  One  pen-artist 
went  so  far  as  to  picture  him  as  the  same  elephant, 
pushing  his  way  over  the  Alps,  with  trunk,  trap- 
pings and  all  the  impediments  attached  !  Such 
mistakes  are  liable  to  occur  in  the  hurry  of  the 
American  press.  It  was  a  natural  mistake.  It 
gave  me  some  sadness.  From  the  numerous 
wood-cuts  which  illustrated  the  newspaper  ac- 
counts of  Hannibal's  Bithynian  grave,  I  am  tempt- 
ed to  reproduce  an  etching  as  a  good  specimen 
of  American  art  in  its  compact  imagination  as 
evolved  for  that  occasion.  As  the  reader  will  see, 
the  artist — lest  his  exaggeration  should  seem  to 
be  conceived  in  too  humble  a  way  to  suit  an  Ori- 
ental theme — gives  his  pen  boldly  to  the  portrait- 
ure, so  as  to  carry  conviction  of  the  truth  of  his 
story.  He  circumstantially  depicts  the  American 
minister  as  a  visitor  at  the  grave  of  this  departed 
hero!  Doubtless  his  inspiration  is  drawn  from 
Mark  Twain's  inconsolable  sympathy  at  the  grave 
of  Adam  in  Jerusalem. 

Not  the  least  of  my  enjoyments — sub  silcntio— 
at  Prinkipo  is  the  perusal  of  letters  from  old  con- 
stituents. Some  have  taken  me  for  a  minister  of 
the  gospel,  commended  me  for  my  change  of  life, 
and  given  me  sedate  advice.  Some  have  asked 
impossible  things  that  I  should  request  of  the 


7"HE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

government  of  Turkey.  I  wrote  to  a  friend  about 
my  location  of  the  grave  of  Hannibal.  I 
thought  it  would  interest  him  as  he  had  once  been 
consul  to  Tunis,  which  included  old  Carthage  in 
its  jurisdiction.  I  received  a  most  sympathetic 
reply.  He  greatly  appreciated  my  kindness.  He 
asked  me  to  drop  a  tear  for  him  over  the  grave  of 
the  Carthaginian  hero  ;  to  invoke  his  manes,  and 
whisper  gently  at  his  tomb  that  he,  the  late  con- 
sul— not  of  Rome  but  America — had  lived  long  on 
the  soil  of  Carthage,  and,  like  Marius  at  Utica,  had 
sat  down  upon  the  ruins  of  Bursa  to  contemplate 
the  scene  of  Carthaginian  greatness.  He  con- 
cluded by  hoping  that  I  would  make  a  libation  on 
the  grave  to  the  repose  of  the  ghost  of  Hannibal. 
But  the  most  jocose  account  of  my  discovery 
was  written  by  a  valued  friend,  a  Chicago  editor. 
He  of  course  heard  that  I  had  discovered  the 
grave  of  his  favorite  hero.  He  determined 
not  to  be  out-done  in  describing  the  scene. 
Concluding  a  long  account,  he  pictures  the 
minister  standing  over  the  grave  of  the  hero, 
his  lachrymal  duct  dripping  with  sympathetic 
tears,  which  plash  on  a  marble  tombstone  in- 
scribed: "  HANNIBAL,  B.C.  Anno  186.  Requiescat 
in  pace  !  "  Among  many  touching  episodes  he  im- 
provises the  following:  "The  minister's  wife  was 
not  so  much  overcome  by  emotion  as  he  was. 
'Why,'  said  she,  Most  thou  weep  for  Hannibal? 


LACHRYMAL  DUCT  FLOWING. 


3OI 


Pray — dam — oh  !  dam  thy  tears  !  Has  he  not 
been  dead  two  thousand  years  ?  After  such  a 
long  absence  will  you  not  soon  meet  him  in  a 
brighter  and  a  better  world  ?"  The  minister,  let 
it  be  here  recorded,  was  in  no  hurry  to  meet  his 
departed  friend  in  the  brighter  and  better  world. 
The  editor's  account  of  the  scene  is  so  realistic 
and  pathetic  that  it  almost  makes  me  weep — for 
the  credulity  of  human  nature. 


HANNIBAL'S  GRAVE. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ASIAN  SHORES NIOEA    AND    NICOMEDIA. 

THE  country  along  the  Asian  shore  is  not  less 
celebrated  for  its  fertility  than  for  the  comfort  it 
gave  to  the  early  Greeks.  It  was  from  the  remot- 
est times  thickly  studded  with  cities  and  towns, 
with  their  teeming  multitude  of  people.  It  is 
still  populous  and  prosperous.  What  land  can 
vie  with  it  in  interest  ?  Its  mountain  peaks 
were  once  the  abodes  of  the  gods.  Its  ranges 
still  form  the  natural  boundaries  of  grand  prov- 
inces, and  shelter  fruitful  Piedmontese  valleys 
in  their  warm  embrace.  To  the  classic  fancy  they 
are  crowned  with  rich  foliage  above  terraced 
slopes  like  Judea  of  old  and  blooming  under  rare 
cultivation.  The  terraces  remain ;  but  the  bare 
peaks  point  forestless  to  the  passing  clouds  in  silent 
protest  against  the  waste  of  past  generations  and 
the  indolence  of  the  present.  What  land  has 
scenes  of  more  romance,  or  names  more  familiar  to 
the  reader  of  biblical  and  secular  history !  Its 
nomenclature,  even  after  thousands  of  years,  woos 
the  archaeologist  and  artist  to  their  work,  and 

302 


SCENERY  OF  ASIA  MINOR.  303 

revives  in  the  mind  of  the  tourist  lofty  themes  of 
the  ancient  days  when  the  hosts  of  Troy  and 
Greece  were  embattled  on  these  plains. 

It  is  a  pleasant  jaunt  in  the  launch  across  the 
channel  to  Kartal,  where  there  is  an  old  aban- 
doned silk  factory,  owned  by  one  of  our  neighbors 
on  the  island,  who  is  a  Swiss.  The  large  hall 
with  its  clean,  white,  stone  flooring  is  there.  Fifty 
silk-stands  are  there,  but  they  are  silent.  They 
speak  the  sad  tale  of  an  elegant  industry  aban- 
doned. The  water  gave  out,  and  therefore  the 
industry  failed.  Around  the  establishment  the  fig- 
trees  are  hardy,  for  they  care  little  for  water. 
But  the  earth  is  parched,  and  the  fruit  thereof 
is  pinched  and  poor.  It  is  not  of  present  en- 
terprises I  would  speak  now  and  here.  The  past 
dominates. 

This  part  of  Asia  Minor,  into  which  I  am  accus- 
tomed to  look  almost  every  morning  from  the 
Isle  of  Prinkipo,  is  known  as  Anatolia.  It  is  a 
peninsula,— a  vast  plateau,  falling  by  stages  down 
to  the  three  seas.  It  is  a  spur  of  the  great  plateau 
of  Central  Asia.  Its  climate  is  balmy  and  trop- 
ical. It  was  the  seat  of  empire.  Its  very  position 
is  so  admirable  that  it  influenced  immensely  the 
early  civilizations  which  here  contended. 

The  great  cities  are  gone.  There  are  few  mon- 
uments of  former  grandeur,  and  scarcely  any 
roads  leading  into  the  mainland.  Of  commerce 


304 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


there  is  almost  none  left.  Industry  and  patience 
still  bring  something  out  of  its  soil  ;  enough  for 
its  inhabitants,  but  dissolution  seems  to  mark 
large  portions  for  its  own.  In  the  western  por- 
tion and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  seas  the  land  is 
arable  and  populous.  The  eastern  portion  is  a 
pasture  ground  for  the  Turkomans.  It  has  a 
splendid  history  in  connection  with  the  Christian 
and  other  faiths.  Its  population,  once  twenty-five 
millions,  now  hardly  exceeds  seven  millions,  of 
which  two  millions  only  are  Christian. 

There  are  two  classes  of  Moslems  here :  those 
who  wander  about,  and  those  who  are  settled. 
The  settled  tribes  are  descendants  of  the  con- 
querors, the  Seljukian  Turks.  The  Seljukian 
is  always  spoken  of  with  respect,  for  he  has  pre- 
served his  ancestral  virtues,  —  dignity,  courage, 
loyalty  and  religious  fervor.  The  Moslem  in 
Asia  Minor  looks  upon  Turkey  in  Europe  only 
as  an  encampment.  At  Broussa,  Koniah  and 
other  celebrated  places  in  Asia  Minor,  is  to 
be  found  the  true  centre  of  the  Mahometan  em- 
pire. Whatever  may  be  thought  of  its  political 
or  economical  situation,  the  travellers  whom  I  am 
accustomed  to  meet,  and  who  return  from  their 
excursions  into  this  wonderful  land,  bring  back 
stories  overrunning  with  enthusiasm.  They  praise 
the  beauty  of  its  scenery,  the  grandeur  of  its 
mountains,  the  richness  of  its  lands,  the  magni- 


TAMERLANE,   THE  TARTAR.  305 

tude  of  its  forests,  its  rain-falls  so  copious,  and  its 
rivers  so  large  ;  and  above  all  its  ancient  monu- 
ments and  its  strange  village  life  heightened  by  the 
unstinted  hospitality  of  its  people.  Here  in  this 
region  is  found  the  Valonia  oak,  one  of  the  princi- 
pal trees  in  Asia  Minor.  It  not  only  produces  an 
acorn  whose  husk  is  used  in  tanning  and  which  is 
exported  in  considerable  quantities,  and  produces 
quite  a  revenue,  but  it  gives  to  the  landscape 
many  graces  and  beauties,  of  which  the  tourist  is 
not  unobservant. 

The  Turks  had  accumulated  enormous  wealth  at 
their  old  capital  of  Broussa,  in  Asia  Minor,  before 
Constantinople  fell  beneath  the  prowess  of  their 
scimitar.  When  Tamerlane,  the  Tartar,  struck  the 
Turkish  power  on  the  plains  of  Angora  and  made 
the  great  Sultan,  Bajazet,  his  prisoner,  he  found 
such  a  quantity  of  treasure  that  the  coins  and  pre- 
cious stones  were  weighed  by  the  oka,  which,  as 
stated  in  a  former  chapter,  is  a  Turkish  measure 
of  nearly  three  pounds.  We  must  remember,  how- 
ever, that  this  is  merely  tradition,  and  that  every- 
thing told  of  this  extraordinary  Tartar  must  be 
received  with  some  grains  of  allowance.  Doubt- 
less he  shed  more  blood  and  made  more  trouble 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth  during  his  thirty-six 
years  of  reign  than  any  other  personage  of  his- 
tory. The  Alexanders,  Hannibals,  Caesars,  At- 
tillas,  Charlemagnes  and  Napoleons,  were  harm- 

20 


3o6 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


less  as  babes  compared  with  this  stalwart  con- 
queror and  sanguinary  scourge  of  the  human 
family. 

How  much  of  interest  there  is  associated  with 
the  history  of  Asia  Minor!  It  might  be  called  the 
cradle  and  the  grave  of  our  race.  Its  very  form 
makes  it  a  theatre  of  contention.  Here  are  two 
continents  near  to  each  other.  Asia  defiantly 
thrusts  her  foot  between  two  seas,  and  Asia 
Minor  becomes  a  battle  ground  where  the  tribes, 
even  of  far-off  plateaus  of  the  continent,  march 
and  countermarch  to  the  conquest  of  the  West. 
Across  these  now  placid  waters  Assyria  and  Per- 
sia empty  their  hordes.  Here  Darius  leads,  over 
his  bridge  of  boats  across  the  Bosphorus,  seven 
hundred  thousand  soldiers  into  Europe.  His  son 
moves  out  of  Persia  into  Cappadocia,  which  is  at 
the  eastern  end  of  Asia  Minor,  with  an  army  in 
which  forty-six  nations  are  represented  !  Behold 
them  as  they  cross  the  Hellespont !  They  are  a 
million  of  men.  They  march  for  the  conquest  of 
Greece,  but  at  set  of  sun  "  where  are  they?" 
Alexander,  too,  marches  over  and  encamps  on 
these  historic  shores.  He  resumes  the  march  and 
never  stops  in  his  conquering  career  until  he 
crosses  the  passes  of  the  Himalayas.  There  he 
moves  down  upon  the  rich  lands  of  India,  subdues 
its  princes  and  weeps  for  more  worlds  to  conquer. 
The  Roman  legions  grew  luxurious  on  the  plains 


ST.  PAUL  AMONG  THE  GENTILES.  ^j 

of  Asia  Minor  after  they  made  the  East  the  prey  of 
their  eagles.  Never  was  there  such  a  theatre  of 
war,  conquest,  spoil  and  splendor  as  Asia  Minor  ! 
The  Balkan  peninsula,  between  the  Black  Sea  and 
the  ^Egean,  bids  fair  to  be  a  repetition  of  its  his- 
tory. What  is  Asia  Minor  now?  In  almost  every 
issue  of  the  newspapers  of  Constantinople  we  read 
of  the  Greek,  Kurdish,  Circassian  and  Turkish  out- 
laws. Brigandage  makes  it  almost  impossible  to 
travel  over  these  historic  and  sacred  regions  with- 
out a  strong  escort.  Much  depends  upon  the 
governor  of  the  province,  as  to  whether  the 
tourist  has  safe  conduct,  or  the  missionary  protec- 
tion. 

Asia  Minor  is  not  only  celebrated  for  its  ancient 
wars  and  modern  troubles,  but  its  every  province 
is  rich  with  the  memories  of  St.  Paul  and  his  com- 
panions. From  Tarsus,  where  he  was  born,  in 
Cilicia  ;  from  Aleppo  to  Antioch,  across  the  Bay 
of  Scanderoon  to  Pamphylia,  Lycia,  Caria,  Lydia, 
Mysia,  and  the  other  mystical  and  musical  names 
of  which  the  New  Testament  is  so  full,  and  where 
Christian  churches  were  early  established, — there 
is  everywhere  some  memory  of  the  great  apostle 
of  the  Gentiles,  and  some  sign  of  the  sufferings 
and  victories  which  finally  made  Asia  Minor 
the  most  profitable  and  prosperous  part  of  the 
Christian  vineyard  and  the  Byzantine  empire.  The 
seven  candlesticks  of  Asia  shed  from  hence  their 


3°8 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


refulgence  into  Macedonia  and  beyond  into  Eu- 
rope. At  Ephesus  is  still  shown  for  Christian 
veneration  the  cave  of  the  "Seven  Sleepers," 
and  the  holy  dog  which  guarded  them  in  their 
more  than  Rip  Van  Winklian  nap  of  two  hundred 
years. 

It  is  a  matter  of  regret  that,  owing  to  an  un- 
fortunate illness,  I  was  unable  to  make  a  contem- 
plated trip  to  Nicaea,  Nicomedia  and  other  places 
of  ecclesiastical  celebrity  along  the  shores  of  the 
Gulf  of  Ismid.  At  one  of  the  villages  where  we 
were  expected  to  land  the  people  of  all  national- 
ities had  made  great  preparations  to  receive  the 
American  Minister.  The  Moslem  governor  called 
on  our  missionary,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pierce,  and  asked 
permission  to  ride  with  him  to  the  landing  to  meet 
and  greet  us.  Mr.  Pierce  begged  him  not  to  make 
any  demonstration,  as  the  visit  was  to  be  mere- 
ly a  quiet  tour.  But  the  village  authorities  insist- 
ed that  they  would  be  guilty  of  inhospitable  con- 
duct if  they  did  not  show  the  respect  which  they 
felt.  As  there  was  no  telegraph  to  countermand 
the  news  of  our  visit,  the  Governor,  with  all  the 
village  magnates,  and  the  Armenian  clergy,  went 
with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pierce  to  the  landing.  There 
was  a  large  cavalcade  to  escort  us  to  their  village. 
Some  five  hundred,  as  I  was  informed,  were  on  the 
road  at  the  entrance  of  the  village  to  do  us  honor. 
Moreover,  the  village  streets  were  cleaned  for  the 


CHALCEDON. 

occasion,  an  event  which  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dwight 
informed  me  was  unparalleled  in  the  history  of 
that  country. 

The  guide-books  tell  us  very  little  about  the 
most  interesting  environment  of  Constantinople. 
The  most  suggestive  of  its  historic  pleasure  resorts, 
next  to  the  Hippodrome,  with  its  serpentine  col- 
umn— which  often  gave  Delphic  responses  when 
it  stood  on  the  Greek  island  in  its  pagan  days, — 
are  the  precincts  of  Chalcedon  and  the  shore  which 
runs  eastward  along  the  Propontis  and  from  there 
to  Nicaea  and  Nicomedia.  This  shore  is  in 
sight  from  the  heights  of  Prinkipo.  Along  it 
runs  the  railroad  to  Ismid.  One  of  the  most  in- 
teresting short  tours,  especially  if  you  take  a  sail- 
boat or  a  steam-launch,  is  along  this  shore.  It  is 
not  only  celebrated  for  the  ecclesiastical  councils, 
out  of  which  our  Christian  creed  came  with  em- 
phasis and  durability,  but  it  is  no  less  famous  for 
its  early  classic  associations.  Chalcedon  lies  in  a 
vast  plain.  That  plain  was  once  the  rendezvous  of 
the  troops  which  were  wont  to  depart  from  Con- 
stantinople on  their  Asiatic  campaigns.  It  is  in- 
dented with  beautiful  bays.  Near  one  of  these 
bays  is  the  garden  of  Haider  Pasha.  It  has  a 
shady  fountain  and  a  plantain  grove.  The  foun- 
tain bears  a  Greek  name — Hermageros.  Noth- 
ing can  exceed  the  beauty  of  this  spot.  I  do 
not  see  that  its  charm  has  been  lost  by  having 


3io 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


Kadikeiii  near  by.  This  village  literally  means 
"  the  place  of  the  judge."  It  stands  on  the  site  of 
the  ancient  Chalcedon,  whose  ruins  are  the  remains 
of  structures  in  which  were  once  heard  the  Grecian 
oracles  and  Christian  councils.  One  of  the  legends 
of  this  place  is  that  it  was  first  settled  by  the 
Greeks  before  even  ancient  Byzantium.  At  that 
time  some  colonists  came  out  from  Greece  to 
found  a  new  state.  They  consulted  the  oracle 
at  Delphos  to  know  at  what  point  they  should 
settle.  The  oracle  said,  "  Opposite  to  the  blind." 
This  was  interpreted  to  mean,  on  the  peninsula  op- 
posite Chalcedon.  Chalcedon  is  opposite  Stam- 
boul.  For,  as  it  was  argued,  the  founders  must 
have  been  blind  to  prefer  Chalcedon  and  neglect 
such  unparalleled  advantages  as  the  waters  of  the 
Golden  Horn  and  the  Bosphorus,  which  glorify 
the  present  harbor  of  Constantinople. 

There  are  many  warlike  stones  about  the  tak- 
ing of  Chalcedon  by  the  Persians.  It  was  be- 
sieged and  mined  by  them.  It  has  often  been 
taken  since  and  devastated,  alike  by  Greek,  By- 
zantine, Goth,  Arabian,  Persian  and  Turk.  Beli- 
sarius  figures  much  in  Greek  history.  Gibbon  has 
given  him  an  immortality.  Here  is  the  spot 
where  his  palace  was  erected  at  the  end  of  his  ser- 
vice. Out  of  the  remains  of  his  palace  has  arisen 
the  finest  structure  in  Stamboul, — the  mosque  of 
Suleimanyie.  Even  the  transient  traveller  cannot 


ON  THE  WA  Y  TO  NIC&A.  ^  l  j 

be  at  a  loss  to  fix  this  point,  for  there  is  a  tower 
and  lighthouse  near  by,  whose  lights,  at  the  sea- 
son of  Bairam,  form  a  double  crescent  which  is 
reflected  in  the  water.  The  promontories  along 
the  shores  were  decorated  in  ancient  times  with 
temples.  In  fact  the  whole  littoral  sweep  from 
the  lighthouse  to  Pendik,  from  which  the  pilgrim 
caravans  still  start  for  Mecca,  is  full  of  historic 
interest. 

The  fourth  GEcumenical  council  is  known  as 
the  Council  of  Chalcedon.  This  is  therefore  a 
spot  of  ecclesiastical  renown.  It  is  now,  however, 
merely  a  railroad  station.  Here  was  once  a 
famous  church.  It  was  built  by  Constantine  on 
the  site  of  the  Temple  of  Apollo  and  demolished 
after  the  fall  of  Constantinople.  Its  materials 
served  to  finish  one  of  the  grand  mosques  of 
the  city.  Now  on  this  not  neglected  spot  there  is 
heard  the  shriek  of  the  locomotive  as  it  moves 
eastward  on  its  way  to  Nicsea  and  Nicomedia,  her- 
alding a  new  gospel  for  the  worshipper  of  mam- 
mon !  It  is  not  altogether  modern  and  prosaic,  for 
doth  not  its  path  lead  both  to  the  glory  and  the 
grave  of  Hannibal !  Not  far  from  its  track  Belisar- 
ius  once  cultivated  his  vineyards.  I  doubt  if  any- 
one but  myself  has  ever  found  the  grave  of  Han- 
nibal. I  saw  it  in  a  vision — not  of  Patmos  but  of 
Prinkipo  !  He  died  in  the  neighborhood  of  what 
is  now  the  railroad  station  of  Guebsehe !  No  one 


3I2 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


in  the  neighborhood  knows  anything  about  the 
tomb,  or  the  Carthaginian.  You  will  inquire  in 
vain  for  it.  It  is  always  a  little  further  off  ;  in 
fact  it  is  an  unattainable  object, — a  will-o-the- 
wisp.  There  is  an  old  ruined  castle  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. This  is  often  visited.  It  is  Hannibal's 
castle.  It  is  not  apocryphal !  It  is  not  apoca- 
lyptical. Its  architecture  belongs  to  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  it  is  not  very  worthy  of  that.  Its  name 
makes  it  a  standing  anachronism.  Its  ruins  are 
near  some  thermal  waters,  which  the  emperors 
of  Byzantium  were  accustomed  to  visit  with  their 
families.  We  can  lave  in  these  waters,  but  Hannibal, 
alas  !  although  he  perished  at  the  ancient  Lybissa, 
and  although  the  spot  is  certainly  located  at  the 
famous  camel-stables  of  the  caravan  times,  before 
the  railroad  came,  Hannibal  and  his  tomb,  I  fear, 
are  forever  lost  to  local  habitation. 

There  are  evidences  at  that  place  of  many 
tombs.  Near  by  is  a  splendid  mosque  which  re- 
minds the  traveller  of  a  mosque  of  Broussa.  Here 
not  .unfrequently  some  traveller  of  wild  archaeo- 
logical genius  rushes  with  frantic  delight  to  a  large 
tomb  with  a  domed  roof,  hoping  that  he  has  dis- 
covered the  long-lost  grave  of  Hannibal;  but  it 
only  turns  out  to  be  the  burial  place  of  a  Han- 
oum — a  woman  of  the  good  old  time,  who  was  the 
mother  of  forty  daughters  !  The  daughters  are 
buried  on  either  side  of  her ;  twenty  in  each  grave. 


THE  ANCIENT  CITY.  ~  j  , 

Must  this  search  for  Hannibal  and  his  tomb  go 
on  forever? 

Nicaea,  the  once  proud  capital  of  Bithynia,  is 
a  more  interesting  than  healthy  spot.  It  was 
founded  not  by  Alexander,  but  by  another  son  of 
Philip  of  Macedon.  It  was  on  a  lovely  plain.  It 
is  described  by  an  ancient  historian  from  the  stand- 
point of  a  stone  placed  in  the  gymnasium  whence 
its  four  gates  could  be  seen.  In  vain  do  the 
English  and  other  tourists,  who  go  there  to  shoot 
birds,  seek  this  central  stone.  Antiquarian 
travellers  have  visited  it,  not  so  much  for  its  clas- 
sical associations,  as  for  the  religious  struggles 
of  the  early  church  which  occurred  here.  The 
city  was  beautified  upon  a  Grecian  model,  and  the 
Romans  gave  it  some  utilitarian  improvements,  as 
was  their  wont.  It  was  the  capital  of  a  proud 
nation ;  but  like  other  Eastern  capitals,  it  had  its 
distresses  by  earthquake,  and  its  sieges  by  sol- 
diers. For  some  time  it  stood  a  barrier  against 
the  progress  of  Mahometan  invaders,  and  many  a 
Saracen  and  Turk  fell  weltering  in  their  blood 
before  its  Christian  defenders.  It  was  not  until 
the  latter  part  of  the  eleventh  century  that  the 
Turks  obtained  possession  of  it.  Soon  after  a 
crusade  changed  its  condition;  for  within  ten 
years  it  fell  before  the  Grecian  host,  which  in- 
vested it  by  water  and  land.  Gibbon  tells  the 
story  that  numbers  of  boats  were  transported 


314 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


from  the  Sea  of  Marmora  to  the  lake  Ascanius. 
These  were  filled  with  soldiers,  but  before  the 
attack  the  banner  of  the  Greek  emperor  floated 
above  the  towers.  It  then  became  the  Greco- 
Roman  capital  of  Western  Asia.  But  when  the 
Seljukian  Orchan — the  ancestor  of  the  present 
Sultan — arose,  the  city  and  the  rich  treasures  col- 
lected within  its  walls  fell  a  prey  to  the  Turk. 
Thereafter  Nicaea  became  known  by  the  less  ven- 
erable and  less  impressive  name  of  Iznik. 

There  is  but  one  Christian  church  remaining  to 
recall  the  ancient  creed  and  glory  of  Nicaea.  But 
as  long  as  the  Nicene  Creed — which  was  here  first 
promulgated — is  repeated  by  the  faithful  it  will  be 
a  bond  between  all  Christians  and  the  Eastern 
Church.  That  Nicene  Creed  is  recited  in  its  orig- 
inal tongue  by  the  peasants  of  Greece.  In  Russia 
the  great  bell  of  the  Kremlin  tower  sounds  during 
the  time  its  words  are  being  chanted.  This  creed 
is  repeated  aloud  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled 
people  by  the  Czars  at  their  coronation.  It  was 
at  the  first  council  of  Nicaea  that  the  fathers — who 
are  so  often  quoted — met  to  form  this  summary  of 
Christian  faith  against  Arianism,  and  to  discuss 
the  supremacy  of  the  Bible,  the  power  of  the 
Pope  and  the  Church,  the  Sacraments,  Original 
Sin,  Predestination,  Justification,  and  above  all  the 
question  upon  which  they  differed  most,  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Incarnation.  This  latter  question  was 


THE  NICENE  CREED.  r  - 

set  at  rest  by  the  Nicene  Creed.  The  council  met 
in  the  month  of  June,  A.D.  325.  Its  creed  was 
signed  by  three  hundred  and  eighteen  bishops. 
It  is  substantially  the  same  creed  which  Christian- 
ity has  accepted  at  its  various  councils  and  con- 
ventions held  during  the  progress  of  time,  and 
which  it  declares  to-day.  It  was  confirmed,  slight- 
ly changed,  by  the  council  of  Constantinople,  A.D. 
381.  It  is  said  to  be  worked  in  brilliants  on 
the  robes  of  the  highest  church  dignitaries  of 
Moscow.  Notwithstanding  all  the  efforts  for  har- 
mony which  this  creed  inspired,  the  unity  of  the 
Church  of  Rome  with  that  of  Greece,  or  rather 
with  that  of  Russia  now,  or  with  that  of  the  Church 
of  England,  or  with  either  of  them,  though  often 
attempted,  has  never  been  consummated.  The 
creed  remains  ;  but  the  exact -place  or  building  in 
which  the  famous  council  assembled  has  not  yet 
been  ascertained.  Whether  it  was  in  the  church, 
which  gave  a  foundation  to  the  ruined  mosque  of 
Orchan,  or  in  the  Christian  temple,  of  which  there 
are  some  remains,  no  one  can  tell. 

This  country  of  Asia  Minor  speaks  in  every 
broken  pillar  and  every  fragment  of  stone,  not 
only  of  the  sojournings  and  teachings  of  the  great 
apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  but  it  recalls  those  early 
days  of  fiery  zeal  when  the  fathers  of  the  Church 
met  to  crush  out  error,  and  to  perfect  a  creed 
which  survives  through  the  lapse  of  centuries. 


3  1 6  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

The  creed  remains,  vital  and  mystic,  but  the 
swamps  and  thickets  and  lakes  around  the  an- 
cient city  of  Nicaea  mark  a  place  of  desolation- 
fit  haunt  at  the  advent  of  the  hunting  season 
for — what  ?  For  the  hunters  of  Constantinople, 
in  search  of  duck  and  woodcock,  and  sometimes  of 
the  wild  boar. 

Nicomedia,  another  city  of  Asia  Minor,  was 
built  in  264  B.C.  by  Nicomedas,  king  of  Bithynia. 
He  called  on  the  Gauls  to  help  him  in  some  of  his 
wars.  There  are  some  sweet  Gallic  accents  yet 
observable  in  the  dialects  spoken  along  the  shore 
of  Marmora.  Nicomedia  was  not  only  great  as  a 
city,  but  greater  as  a  Roman  capital.  Its  great- 
ness has  been  handed  down  to  us  by  Roman  his- 
torians. Here  Pliny  was  pro-consul.  Here  he 
resided  and  wrote  letters  to  the  Emperor  Trajan, 
describing  the  monuments,  advantages  and  impor- 
tance of  the  city  and  its  surroundings.  It  is 
thought  that  Pliny  first  started  the  idea  of  con- 
necting the  waters  of  the  lake  of  Sabaridja  with 
the  Gulf  of  Nicomedia  by  means  of  a  canal,  and 
thus  cause  the  waters  of  this  lake  to  join  those  of 
the  river  Sakaria,  which  empty  into  the  Black  Sea. 
Herodotus — or  his  annotator — discusses  this  pro- 
ject, and  I  received  many  letters  from  American 
students  propounding  many  difficult  engineering 
problems  about  this  important  matter. 

Dioclesian  embellished  Nicomedia  with  a  taste 


EARL  Y  NICOMEDIA.  ^  j  ~ 

and  expense  that  were  unparalleled.  It  became 
only  inferior  to  Rome,  Alexandria  and  Antioch 
in  extent  and  population  in  classic  days.  It  is 
celebrated  for  one  of  the  first  general  edicts  of 
that  emperor  commanding  the  persecution  of  the 
Christians.  This  was  in  the  fourth  century. 
Gibbon  relates  many  interesting  details  of  the 
martyrdoms  of  that  early  day,  and  especially  one 
holocaust  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  when 
a  Christian  emperor,  who  was  an  Arian,  caused  a 
ship  containing  eighty  bishops,  who  belonged  to 
the  orthodox  faith,  to  be  set  on  fire  in  the  harbor 
of  Nicomedia.  They  perished  for  their  creed. 
Here  was  the  home  of  Constantine.  Along  with 
its  rival  Nicaea  it  underwent  many  sieges,  but  it 
is  principally  renowned,  along  with  Nicsea,  for 
being  the  seat  of  early  Christian  councils.  Now 
like  Nicsea,  it  is  principally  attractive  to  the  hunt- 
ers, who  go  out  with  shot-guns  from  Constanti- 
nople to  kill  snipe  and  other  game  in  and  around 
its  swamps.  The  flamingo  and  the  stork  are  com- 
mon upon  its  ways  and  house-tops,  but  all  the 
interest  left  in  this  capital  seems  to  surround 
the  great  soldier  of  Carthage — Hannibal,  whose 
stern  parent  was  very  far  from  being  one  of  the 
Christian  fathers. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

BROUSSA,    ITS    ENTERPRISE    AND    HISTORY MOUNT 

OLYMPUS. 

BROUSSA  is  a  city  of  Asia  Minor.  It  stands  in 
superb  contrast  with  the  relict  cities  of  ecclesias- 
tical glory.  It  is  a  thriving  business  city,  with  a 
history  worthy  of  the  founders  of  the  Ottoman 
Empire,  who  are  here  buried.  I  have  been  at 
Broussa,  but  I  never  surmounted  the  top  of  Mount 
Olympus.  It  is  becoming  quite  a  summer  pastime, 
which  our  American  friends  of  Robert  College- 
including  those  of  the  gentler  sex — enjoy.  They 
camp  out  upon  the  heights  and  enjoy  the  prospect, 
and  inhale  health.  Mrs.  Washburne,  the  wife  of 
the  president  of  Robert  College,  gives  us  a  descrip- 
tion of  her  experience  the  past  summer  in  tent  life 
upon  Mount  Olympus. 

If  from  the  heights  of  Prinkipo  so  much  can  be 
seen,  how  much  more  from  the  top  of  Olympus, 
which  is  seventy-five  hundred  feet  high  ?  From 
its  lofty  dome  can  be  viewed  the  Sea  of  Marmora, 
with  its  islands,  gulfs  and  promontories,  on  one 
side,  and  the  Dardanelles  and  the  countries  around 
it,  on  the  other. 


PROSPECT  FROM  MT.  OL  YMPUS.  3  l  y 

The  eye  takes  in  the  lakes  on  the  east,  where 
were  situated  Nicomedia  and  Nicsea,  and  the 
mountains  of  Bosachan  to  the  west.  Such  a  wide 
expanse  of  water ;  such  magnificent  ranges  of 
mountains,  and  such  a  lofty  standpoint  give  a 
ground  of  vantage  that  elevates  the  observer  far 
above  the  turmoils  of  our  little  world.  And  what 
a  land !  What  seas  are  overlooked  from  this 
more  than  Alpine  height !  Here  one  stands 
wrapped  in  thought,  not  alone  because  the  scenes 
below  have  been  illustrated  in  crimson  letters  by 
Persian,  Greek,  Roman  and  Turkish  armies  ;  not 
merely  that  Broussa — the  most  interesting  Mos- 
lem city  next  to  Constantinople — which  lies  at 
the  f6ot  of  the  mountain,  was  the  capital  of  the 
first  Turkish  empire,  and  still  retains  the  bodies  of 
its  early  heroes  and  Sultans,  but  also  that  from 
this  elevated  point  can  be  seen  what  is  now  the 
ignoble  point  of  Ismid,  where  was  once  the  proud 
capital  of  Bithynia,  the  famed  city  of  Nicomedia. 
It  was  once  the  residence  of  emperors  ;  but  now 
it  is  only  a  memory  !  We  have  not  to  ascend 
Olympus  to  see  it.  It  is  almost  within  the  range 
of  our  vision  from  the  hills  of  Prinkipo. 

It  would  be  a  pleasant  thing  to  compare  our 
Mysean  Olympus  with  the  Olympus  which  Homer 
has  peopled  and  glorified  with  the  divinities. 
Both  mountains  are  within  the  jurisdiction  of 
our  legation.  The  Olympus  which  the  won- 


320 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


drous  mythology  of  Greece  gave  to  the  world 
is  just  over  the  boundary  of  Greece.  But  it  is 
also  within  the  precincts  of  Macedonia,  which  is 
in  Turkey.  My  servitor,  Pierre,  has  been  on  the 
heights  of  the  Grecian  Olympus  with  a  company  of 
engineers.  He  was  their  purveyor.  He  knows 
all  about  the  monastery  of  Saint  Dionysius,  before 
which  and  its  ministers  the  light  of  Apollo  has 
shone  and  the  eagle  of  Jove  has  flown.  He  is 
acquainted  with  the  guides,  who  are  known  as 
"  clefts,"  called  so,  perhaps,  because  they  are  famil- 
iar wTith  the  rocks.  Having  ascended  the  classic 
mountain,  he  gives  me  an  account  of  its  holy  oaks, 
catalpas,  arbutuses,  pines  and  firs,  and  the  glory  of 
the  adjacent  mountains.  From  its  summit  one  can 
overlook  the  sea,  as  to  which  Pierre  becomes  elo- 
quent in  his  description.  He  forgets  his  French 
and  other  alien  tongues  in  telling  the  glory  of  the 

"  Long  line  of  foam,  the  jewelled  chain, 
The  largesse  of  the  ever-giving  main." 

He  relapses  into  his  own  language  of  Croatia, 
with  whose  coast  he  is  as  familiar  as  I  am  now 
with  the  inlets  and  seas  about  Prinkipo.  Within 
view  of  Olympus  are  the  shoreless  cliffs  of 
Ossa. 

How  glorious  and  great  is  the  peak  of  the  clas- 
sic Olympus !  To  the  north  is  the  level  plain 
diversified  with  woodlands.  On  the  opposite  side 


THE  CLASSIC  OLYMPUS.  32 1 

of  the  water  are  the  promontories,  one  after  an- 
other— Athos,  Tomina — and  beyond  these  some 
of  the  islands  of  the  ^Egean  lift  themselves 
out  of  the  blue  waves  into  the  beautiful  blue 
sky. 

This  wonderful  home  of  the  gods,  this  Grecian 
Olympus,  which  fills  such  a  grand  page  in  our  my- 
thology and  rhetoric,  is  now  undignified  by  many 
saw-mills  turned  by  its  obedient  streams.  Thus 
are  the  naiads  enslaved  and  the  dryads  dishev- 
elled of  their  leafy  glories,  while  the  waters  plash 
and  the  wheel  turns,  and  the  saws  eat  their  eager 
way  into  the  timber  that  is  sent  thence  to  Smyrna, 
to  Constantinople  and  even  to  Egypt.  Non 
constat  but  I  am  now  sitting  in  a  chair  whose 
ligneous  fibre  grew  under  the  very  shadow  of  the 
throne  of  Zeus.  I  revert  to  my  callow  college 
days.  I  ask:  Where  are  Venus  and  Mars? 
Where  the  glories  of  that  wonderful  company  of 
gods,  with  Jove  above  them  all  by  his  great 
looks  and  power  imperial  ?  Gone  into  the 
dim  yet  deathless  traditions  of  the  past,  which 
made  this  mountain  so  weird  in  its  witchery 
and  sacred  in  its  power  over  the  poetic  Greek 
imagination.  What  poet  of  the  future  will  sing 
"Olympus  Lost"  ? 

The  classic  Olympus  has  now  come  down  to  this  : 
that  the  most  conspicuous  tradition  of  our  Ho- 
meric mount  connects  itself  with  a  bear.  The 


322  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

legend  is  told  by  the  monks  of  St.  Dionysius. 
When  that  saintly  father  was  ploughing  on  the 
mountain  side,  he  was  forced  to  leave  his  ox 
with  the  plough  in  the  furrow.  While  away,  a 
bear  came  along  and  ate  up  his  ox.  The  saint  on 
his  return  discovered  what  had  happened.  He— 
No,  he  did  not  curse  and  swear,  but  he  was  very 
mad  with  the  bear,  and  he  determined  to  punish 
bruin  in  a  way  not  to  his  taste.  With  a  power  that 
belonged  almost  to  the  supreme  Zeus  himself,  he 
seized  and  harnessed  the  larcenous  ox-lifting  bruin. 
Forever  after  that  bear  had  to  drag  that  plough. 
He  became  quite  tame  and  grizzly  in  the  hon- 
orable service  of  Ceres.  When  the  family  of 
bears  found  what  his  saintship  had  done  with  their 
fellow,  they  incontinently  turned  tail  and  fled  the 
Mount  Olympus,  just  as  the  snakes  scurried  from 
Ireland  when  they  heard  that  St.  Patrick  had 
landed. 

While  the  Macedonian  Olympus  soars  high  in 
the  clouds  of  classic  lore,  it  cannot  compare, 
except  in  the  number  of  its  peaks,  with  our  own 
Mysean  Olympus.  The  classic  Olympus  has  a 
triple  crown.  Olympus  of  Asia  Minor  has  but 
two  summits.  Although  the  classic  Olympus  has 
a  name  which  signifies  the  "  Shining  One,"  and 
is  called  the  white,  the  dazzling,  and  gleaming 
mount  by  the  Greek  poets,  it  may  as  well  be 
stated  in  prose  that  no  part  of  this  Homeric 


THE  SERENE  HEIGHTS. 


Olympus  is  within  the  limit  of  perpetual  snow  ; 
while  our  Asian  Olympus  never  fails  to  shine  with 
its  white  perennial  crown  !  No  one  can  gainsay 
that  the  surroundings  of  the  classic  Olympus  are 
something  magnificent.  Its  effect  is  grand.  Here 
is  Ossa..  It  too  has  magnificent  views.  It  com- 
mands a  wide  expanse  of  sea  beneath  its  aspect. 
Olympus  is  nine  thousand  feet  high  ;  but  its 
weak  point  is  that  the  country  on  one  side  is 
almost  wholly  excluded  from  view.  This  is 
owing  to  a  double  line  of  summits.  Scholars 
who  have  ascended  its  classic  eminence  find  it 
no  unworthy  position  for  the  gods  It  has  a 
serener  ether  than  belongs  to  our  lower  nature, 
and  there  is  an  odor  of  sanctity  around  its 
monastery.  The  early  Greek  believed  that  its 
atmosphere  was  never  disturbed  by  wind,  storm, 
snow  or  clouds.  It  was  always  divine.  The 
clouds  below  its  tranquil  summit  were  the  beau- 
tiful gates  of  heaven  to  the  sensitive  Greek. 
When  Jove  rolled  them  back,  Apollo  gave  them 
hue  and  beauty.  What  a  palace  was  that  of 
Jupiter!  What  a  council  -chamber  that  of  the 
other  gods  !  What  a  course  for  their  chariots  and 
races  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain  ! 

But  to  enter  these  mystic  scenes  and  precincts 
is  to  go  beyond  the  limits  prescribed  for  this  vol- 
ume. Lest  I  awake  the  ire  of  Homer  or  his 
students,  I  will  not  further  make  comparison  be- 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

tween  the  two  Olympian  heights.  The  best  I  can 
do  is  to  come  down  from  these  heights  and  flights 
and  describe  things  as  they  are  to-day  in  this 
ancient  wonderland.  If  we  were  to  describe  the 
various  peaks  upon  the  classic  Olympus  and  the 
legends  connected  with  them,  the  classic  mountain 
might  be  reduced  to  a  lower  plane  than  that  of  the 
Olympus  which  the  learned  regard  with  so  much 
pedantic  devotion. 

Shakespeare  has  made  the  scenes  about  our  clas- 
sic Olympus  interesting.  His  genius  seized  Pelion 
and  piled  it  on  Ossa  in  a  wild  way.  Ossa  is  a 
smaller  rock  than  Olympus;  but  what  huge  rocks 
they  are !  When  the  vale  of  Tempe  opens  to  the 
sea  between  them,  it  is  a  picture  of  Claude,  repre- 
senting beauty  at  the  feet  of  strength  ! 

Along  the  coast  of  the  ^Egean,  Pelion  lies 
near  Ossa,  and  along  with  Mount  Olympus  they 

look  across  the   sea   to   the    scene    of   the    great 

i 
Trojan  epic. 

It  is  a  custom,  even  to  the  present  day,  among 
the  Grecian  Christian  women  when  they  are 
enceinte,  to  slide  down  one  of  the  smooth  places 
on  the  side  of  the  classic  mountain.  It  is  a  sign 
of  a  happy  deliverance.  And  as  they  slide,  they 
sing  a  peculiar  song  in  Greek.  It  has  reference 
to  their  future  destiny,  or  that  of  the  expected 
child. 

There  is  still  another  eminence  nearer  our  home, 


A   TURKISH  MOUNTAIN. 


325 


though  lesc  classic  and  historic  than  either  of  the 
Olympii.  It  is  a  Turkish  Dagh. 

One  of  the  best  points  of  observation  for  a 
view  of  the  landscape  in  and  around  Constanti- 
nople is  the  Mount  Bougourlow.  It  rises  only 
a  few  miles  behind  Scutari  on  the  Asiatic  side. 
When  you  climb  to  its  summit  the  panorama  of  the 
Bosphorus  and  the  Sea  of  Marmora  is  spread  be- 
neath you.  This  mountain  is  not  only  frequented 
by  strangers  who  desire  to  survey  the  prospect, 
but  by  the  Mahometan  women,  who  go  there  in 
good  weather  to  pass  the  day  under  its  pleasant 
trees.  They  go  in  little  companies.  Sometimes 
the  harem  goes.  The  women  watch  their  chil- 
dren at  play  ;  they  chat ;  they  listen  to  itinerant 
music  ;  and  they  have  their  picnic  of  grapes,  bread 
and  sherbet,  topped  off  with  a  smoke  of  the  fra- 
grant weed. 

The  ascent  to  this  mountain  is  by  no  means 
easy.  The  roads  are  hardly  passable.  The  prin- 
cipal vehicle  is  the  arabi  —  a  lumbering  carriage 
drawn  by  oxen.  But  it  makes  up  in  gaudy 
finery  what  it  lacks  in  speed.  There  are  many 
little  plateaus  to  break  the  ascent  of  the  moun- 
tain. Here  you  can  rest.  On  each  plateau  are 
seen  families  of  both  Armenians  and  Turks — 
resting  on  their  lazy  route  upward.  The  situa- 
tion is  so  high,  the  sea  breeze  so  grateful,  the 
temperature  so  refreshing,  and  the  dealers  in  cof- 


326 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


fee,  water,  sherbet,  pastry  and  confectionery  are 
so  numerous  that  the  spectacle  upon  the  top 
of  the  mountain  is  as  festive  as  the  wide-spread 
panorama  below  is  sublime.  The  women  sit 
upon  the  grass  under  their  sun-shades.  They 
are  clad  in  their  varicolored  and  shining  silk 
dresses.  Some  recline  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
sycamores  and  plane-trees.  The  gayety  and  nov- 
elty are  enhanced  by  a  bevy  of  Greek  girls.  You 
easily  recognize  them.  They  are  known  by  their 
diadems  of  braided  hair.  They  amuse  themselves 
with  the  dance  in  movements  which  require  little 
exertion,  but  which  are  full  of  the  poetry  of  mo- 
tion. These  performances  you  may  see  repeated 
at  the  "  Sweet  Waters." 

This  scene  is  seductive  with  attractions,  but 
your  ascent  to  the  mountain  is  for  another  pur- 
pose. Here  the  eye  roams  over  the  prospect 
of  the  great  city,  with  its  domes  and  minarets 
upon  the  west.  On  the  east  is  a  vast  plateau 
or  prairie.  Over  it  runs  the  old  road  of  the 
caravans.  It  leads  out  of  Scutari  into  the  very 
heart  of  Asia.  On  the  north  is  the  Black  Sea 
and  old  Cimmeria,  —  the  land  of  blackness  and 
blockheads!  On  the  south  is  our  own  island 
home  of  Prinkipo  flanked  by  Bothnia  and  Troy. 
Turn  where  you  will  every  prospect  pleases. 
Not  the  least  of  the  delights  is  the  circle  im- 
mediately around  you.  Here  are  the  Zigani  play- 


FOUNDERS  OF  TURKISH  EMPIRE.  ^2*J 

ing  upon  the  fiddle.  They  chant  ballads  in  their 
strange  gypsy  dialect.  Here  pleasure,  innocence 
and  gayety  abound.  The  groups  are  as  joyous  as 
one  could  wish  to  see.  One  feels  tempted  to  re- 
main here  long  As  the  company  descend  the 
mountain  shouts  of  wild  laughter  from  the  arabis 
answer  to  each  new  plunge  of  the  awkward  vehicles. 
Horsemen  dash  down  as  recklessly  as  if  they  were 
on  a  level.  Everything  bespeaks  a  scene  entirely 
Asiatic  and  far  removed  from  the  Europe  which 
is  in  view  from  the  summit.  In  such  glimpses  we 
catch  rare  views  of  the  harmonious  blendings  of 
Greek  and  Turkish  life,  suggestive  of  the  blend- 
ings  of  the  two  races  which  gave  so  much  force 
and  romance  to  the  Mahometan  empire  in  Europe. 

The  founder  of  the  Ottoman  dynasty,  Othman, 
was  an  extraordinary  person.  He  left  not  only  a 
great  name,  but  a  sovereignty  over  the  greater 
part  of  little  Asia.  Starting  with  an  army  of  only 
416  horsemen,  he  increased  it  to  6000.  When  he 
died  he  left  neither  gold  nor  silver  behind,  only  a 
spoon  and  a  salt-cellar,  an  embroidered  caftan,  a 
new  turban,  some  flags  in  red  muslin,  a  stable  full 
of  horses,  some  yokes  of  oxen  for  the  laborers  of 
the  farm,  and  a  choice  flock  of  sheep.  These 
sheep  were  the  ancestors  to  the  imperial  flocks 
which  were  fed  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Olympus, 
and  this  man  was  the  ancestor  of  the  imperial 
rulers  of  the  great  Ottoman  empire. 

Orkhan  was  his  second  son  and  his  successor. 


32 


PRINCES  ISLES. 


He  had  great  skill  in  ornamentation  and  evidently 
was  romantically  inclined,  for  the  buildings  which 
he  caused  to  be  erected  are  covered  with  poetical 
inscriptions.  Whenever  he  founded  a  college  he 
also  established  a  soup  kitchen.  The  villages 
which  are  called  after  his  name  are  numerous. 
His  reign  was  unsullied  either  by  barbarity  or 
violence.  He  is  known  as  the  Numa  of  the  Otto- 
mans. What  I  wish  to  remark  in  relation  to  this 
family  is  this  :  Their  tombs  at  Broussa  are  noted 
in  history.  The  munificence  of  these  princes  to- 
ward Broussa  has  its  monuments  in  the  chari- 
table institutions  which  they  erected.  Niloufer 
Khatoun  was  the  first  wife  of  the  Sultan  Orkhan. 
She  founded  one  hundred  and  eleven  charitable 
institutions.  Some  of  them  are  in  Nicaea.  She 
passed  the  end  of  her  life  at  that  place  in  quiet 
retirement,  and  was  always  regarded  as  a  most 
excellent  and  pious  princess. 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  Sultans  are  not  per- 
mitted to  marry  outside  of  their  own  religion. 
They  are  not  so  restricted  in  choice.  It  is  a  fact 
that  the  strength  and  glory  of  the  Ottoman  dy- 
nasty has  been  sustained  by  the  marriage  of  its 
Sultans  with  Christian  women.  The  virtuous 
princess  Niloufer,  whose  body  lies  near  the  walls 
of  Broussa.  was  a  Christian,  and  she  is  in  such 
contrast  with  Roxolana,  another  Christian  wife 
of  a  subsequent  emperor,  that  it  is  well  to  regard 
the  one  and  discard  the  other. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

EUROPEAN  SHORE SAN  STEFANO  AND  THE  TREATY. 

SAN  STEFANO  is  always  in  sight  on  a  clear  day 
from  the  Princes  Islands.  It  leaves  one  indelible 
historic  impression.  It  is  connected  with  the  war 
which  began  in  the  autumn  of  1877  between  Rus^ 
sia  and  Turkey.  Of  that  war  and  its  various  for- 
tunes I  shall  speak  in  a  more  elaborate  volume 
than  this — "The  Diversions  of  a  Diplomat"— 
which  I  contemplate  publishing.  The  diplomacy 
in  which  Lord  Salisbury — who  was  the  agent  of 
Lord  Beaconsfield — took  so  .conspicuous  a  part  at 
that  time,  is  associated  with  the  very  room  where 
I  now  pen  this  chapter.  Here,  no  doubt,  Salis- 
bury dreamt  dreams  and  saw  visions.  The  device 
of  Midhad  Pacha — then  grand  vizier — to  disarm 
the  hostility  of  the  European  congress  or  concert 
by  proclaiming  a  liberal  constitution  ;  the  adhesion 
of  England  to  Turkey;  the  isolation  of  the  Czar; 
the  crossing  of  the  Danube,  upon  which  the  Great 
White  Father  of  all  the  Russians  invoked  the 
blessing  of  God  as  he  gave  the  order  to  advance ; 
the  move  on  the  Balkans  ;  the  cries  against  the  in- 
fidels ;  the  sacred  hymns  of  the  old  Greek  Church 

329 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

heralding  the  Slavonic  army — all  these  are  a  part 
of  that  conflict  which  had  its  consummation  and 
mise  en  seine  at  San  Stefano.  In  that  movement 
the  Russians  had  two  hundred  and  twenty  thou- 
sand men,  and  the  Turks  about  the  same  number. 
In  soldierly  bearing  and  qualities  these  armies 
were  nearly  equal.  They  were  equally  enthusiastic 
and  brave.  In  arms  the  Turks  were,  perhaps, 
better  off  than  the  Russians.  Three  hundred 
thousand  American  rifles,  the  Peabody-Martini 
gun  which  is  still  to  be  seen  in  the  hands  of  the 
Turkish  soldier,  had  been  stacked  for  the  emer- 
gency in  the  barracks  of  Constantinople.  Iron- 
clads filled  the  Golden  Horn.  Germany  supplied 
the  Turk  with  cannon  which  were  as  much  supe- 
rior to  the  old  bronze  guns,  as  the  Martini  rifle  was 
in  advance  of  the  old  Revolutionary  musket  of  our 
fathers.  The  Russians  were,  perhaps,  superior  in 
cavalry.  The  Cossack  was  then  thought  to  have 
no  equal.  This  was  before  the  day  when  the 
Arab  of  the  desert  with  spear  and  horse  broke  the 
squares  of  the  flower  of  Albion's  infantry  in  the 
Soudan.  But  the  fighting  was  not  to  be  done  on 
horse-back.  The  Turks  were  in  their  own  coun- 
try. They  had  the  mountain  range  of  the  Bal- 
kans, so  celebrated  in  military  history  from  the 
time  when  Darius  crossed  the  Bosphorus  to  fight 
the  Scythians.  Bulgaria  then,  as  now,  was  the 
objective  point.  Generals  Gourko  and  Skoboleff 


WAR   WITH  RUSSIA.  33! 

led  the  Russian  armies.  As  the  people  of  many 
of  the  towns  through  which  the  Russians  passed 
were  adherents  of  the  Greek  Church,  they  wel- 
comed the  Russians  as  deliverers.  Priests,  monks 
and  girls  met  the  Slav  soldiers  with  flowers  and 
benedictions. 

The  Turks  were  aroused.  Their  armies  were 
concentrated  upon  the  Balkans.  All  Europe  be- 
held their  magnificent  fighting  at  the  Shipka  Pass. 
Plevna  became  almost  another  Thermopylae  in 
the  way  of  the  advancing  Slav.  The  Czar  himself 
soon  found  his  presence  necessary  to  inspire  the 
stolid  Russian  soldier. 

The  advance  was  easy,  until  all  at  once  the 
Shipka  Pass  was  found  to  be  defended  by  the 
Turks,  and  Plevna  made  its  heroic  resistance ! 
In  spite  of  the  gallant  fighting  on  the  part  of 
the  Turks,  the  Russians  found  themselves  south 
of  the  Balkans.  Was  there  a  panic  in  Constan- 
tinople ?  Was  there  terror  at  the  Porte  and  dis- 
may in  Dolma-Batche  and  the  palaces  ?  Was 
there  a  packing  up  of  archives?  Was  there 
to  be  another  hegira  of  the  Mohammedan  and 
another  exodus  of  the  Jews  ?  All  this  has  been 
said. 

The  intensity  of  religious  emotion  was  invoked 
in  the  rank  and  file  of  the  Russian  army.  The 
splendid  ritual  of  the  Greek  Church  was  called 
in  to  take  the  place  of  the  drum  and  fife.  With 


352 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


uncovered  head,  the  sad  chants  peculiar  to  the 
Greek  Church  gave  solemnity  to  the  scene.  It 
was  no  summer  holiday, — that  fight  in  the  Bal- 
kans. At  length  Osman  Pacha,  who  so  long 
withstood  the  skill  of  Todleben,  surrenders  with 
his  army.  Plevna  falls.  It  is  the  turning-point  of 
the  war.  The  Russians  push  down  toward  Con- 
stantinople. With  an  audacity  unequalled  they 
press  on  towards  the  Bulgarian  capital,  Sofia, 
where  for  the  first  time  since  A.D.  1434,  a  Chris- 
tian army  is  seen. 

"On  to  Philippopolis !  " — "On  to  Adrianople  !" 
The  victorious  Russians  press  on,  until  on  the 
last  day  of  January,  1878,  the  minarets  of  Con- 
stantinople appear. 

The  passage  of  the  Balkans  was  a  wonderful 
achievement.  It  was  a  terrible  struggle  amidst 
the  storms  of  the  winter  season.  Even  as  I  now 
write,  in  this  balmy  clime,  and  so  near  the  Balkan 
range,  the  snow  is  blocking  its  passes. 

How  far  did  that  war  limit  the  power  of  Tur- 
key ?  By  what  miracle  did  the  Caliph  of  all 
Mahometanism  survive  the  conflict  of  race  and 
religion  ?  This  is  not  the  place  to  seek  the  casus 
belli,  or  to  criticise  the  strategy  by  which  the  Rus- 
sian army  reached  the  plains  of  San  Stefano.  On 
the  memorable  third  of  March,  A.D.  1878,  the  little 
village,  whose  white  houses  now  appear  upon  my 
vision,  was  the  scene,  after  a  month  of  negotia- 


TREA  TY  OF  SAN  STEFANO.  3 ^ 3 

tion,  of  the  celebration  of  the  peace  by  what  is 
known  as  the  "  Treaty  of  San  Stefano." 

This  village  is  not  without  some  American  asso- 
ciations. It  is  the  place  where  Commodore  Porter, 
of  "  Essex  "  fame,  first  fixed  the  American  Lega- 
tion. It  is  situated  on  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  and 
within  six  miles  of  the  Golden  Gate,  from  whose 
towers  I  have  gazed  upon  the  grand  campaign, 
where  the  vast  Russian  army  was  encamped. 

But  it  is  most  distinguished  as  the  place  where 
the  treaty  between  Russia  and  Turkey  was  made. 
That  treaty  was  made  by  General  Ignatieff.  It 
was  set  aside  afterwards  by  the  treaty  of  Berlin, 
owing  to  the  energetic  protest  of  the  Powers. 
The  protest  was  backed  by  the  British  Navy, 
which  was  anchored  between  the  islands  of  Halki 
and  Prinkipo,  in  the  same  .blue  waters  through 
which  I  am  accustomed  to  glide  in  our  American 
navy  of  the  Orient,  the  steam-launch  "Sunset." 

It  was  thought  when  the  Russian  army  came 
in  sight  of  the  minarets  of  Stamboul  that  the  rule 
of  the  Turk  in  Europe  was  forever  ended, — that 
his  encampment  was  broken  up  and  that  he  would 
retreat  into  Asia.  Judging  from  the  enormous 
number  of  refugees  who  fled  before  the  advanc- 
ing Russian  army,  this  was  then  a  reasonable  ex- 
pectation. 

There  were  other  Powers,  however,  to  be  dealt 
with  before  Russia  could  be  permitted  to  fly  her 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

flag  from  the  dome  of  St.  Sophia.  The  English 
fleet  passed  up  the  Dardanelles.  There,  on  the 
plains  of  San  Stefano,  were  rolled  back  the  waves 
of  Russian  invasion  which  almost  swept  over  the 
walls  of  Constantinople  ! 

The  war,  not  to  speak  of  the  treaty,  which  was 
more  or  less  abrogated  afterwards  at  Berlin,  had 
the  effect  of  greatly  circumscribing  Turkish  do- 
minion in  Europe.  It  severed  Bosnia,  Servia, 
Herzegovina,  Montenegro,  Roumania  and  Bulga- 
ria, and  portions  of  Thessaly  from  the  empire. 
But  the  Moslem  domination  over  a  large  portion 
of  Turkey  in  Europe  still  remains.  Judging  by 
recent  events,  the  power  of  the  Turk  is  stronger 
to-day  than  it  was  ten  years  ago. 

Although  the  village  of  San  Stefano  has  a  place 
in  diplomatic  history,  it  consists  of  only  about 
twenty  or  thirty  houses.  These  houses  are  large. 
They  are  owned  by  wealthy  Greek  merchants  who 
inhabit  them  during  the  summer.  When  the 
Russians  were  preparing  to  move  on  Constanti- 
nople, these  houses  were  occupied  by  the  Grand 
Duke  Nicholas  and  his  staff.  There  is  a  quay 
upon  the  Sea  of  Marmora  upon  which  the  village 
fronts.  During  the  winter  and  spring  of  1878 
there  could  be  heard  at  these  Princes  Islands, 
floating  across  the  waters,  the  music  of  the  Rus- 
sian bands.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  this  alien  mu- 
sic was  heard  by  the  young  Sultan,  who  had  only 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  RUSSIAN  SIEGE.  ^$$ 

a  year  or  two  before  that  time  come  into  power. 

The  Russians  remained  at  San  Stefano  during 
the  armistice.  The  officers,  and  after  a  while 
some  of  the  men,  were  allowed  to  visit  Constanti- 
nople. It  is  said  that  they  behaved  themselves 
in  a  most  exemplary  manner.  Certainly  they 
pleased  the  merchants  of  the  bazaars.  It  is  reck- 
oned that  six  millions  of  rubles  in  gold,  a  sum 
equivalent  to  $4,600,000,  were  then  paid  into  the 
shops  by  the  Russians.  During  this  time  al- 
though there  was  a  mercantile  entente  cordiale, 
the  treaty  hung  fire.  The  Russians  became  impa- 
tient at  the  dilatoriness  of  the  Turks  in  signing  the 
treaty.  The  3rd  of  March  rolled  around  ;  it  was 
the  anniversary  of  the  Czar's  accession  ;  and  the 
negotiations  were  abruptly  ended.  At  one  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  the  troops  were  drawn  up  as  for 
parade.  The  horses  of  the  Grand  Duke  and  his 
staff  were  saddled.  Still  the  Turks  delayed  to 
sign  the  treaty.  Couriers  dashed  fleetly  between 
the  house  of  the  Grand  Duke  and  that  in  which 
were  the  negotiators — Ignatieffand  Savfet  Pasha. 
At  last  the  Russian  menace  /was  heeded.  The  in- 
tended attack  upon  the  city  was  turned  into  a 
"  Review,"  and  the  army  was  informed  that  the 
war  had  ended. 

It  has  lately  transpired  that,  when  the  Russian 
army  was  near  Constantinople,  Count  Schouvaloff 
telegraphed  to  the  Czar  that  England  would  not 


336 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


interfere  with  the  occupation  of  the  city  by  the 
Russians,  provided  no  attempts  were  made  by  the 
Russians  to  seize  Gallipoli  and  blockade  the  iron- 
clads within  the  Golden  Horn.  The  Czar  trusted 
to  Schouvaloff.  He  was  the  ambassador  at  Lon- 
don. He  believed  that  the  city  would  be  occu- 
pied without  British  intervention.  It  is  alleged 
that  on  the  receipt  of  this  dispatch  the  Czar 
telegraphed  to  General  Gourko  at  San  Stefano 
commanding  the  troops  to  march  into  and  oc- 
cupy the  city.  Of  course,  the  dispatch  was  in  ci- 
pher ;  but  it  could  not  reach  San  Stefano  without 
passing  through  Turkish  hands.  It  is  said  that 
the  Turks  so  transposed  the  ciphers  that  when 
the  telegram  was  received  by  Gourko  it  was 
utterly  unintelligible.  The  general  had  all  the 
shrewdness  of  his  army  at  work  upon  the  dis- 
patch,— but  in  vain.  Thus,  two  most  momentous 
days  passed  by ;  and  the  British  cabinet  meanwhile 
were  advised  by  the  Turkish  minister  at  London 
of  the  peril.  The  British  cabinet  immediately 
directed  the  minister  at  St.  Petersburg  to  state  to 
the  Czar  that  the  occupation  of  the  city  would  be 
regarded  as  a  casus  belli.  The  result  of  the  curt 
dispatch  was  the  treaty  and  not  the  occupation. 

This  remarkable  statement  is  vouched  for  by  Dr. 
Blowitz,  the  Paris  correspondent  of  the  London 
Times.  "  Upon  what  a  slender  thread  hang  ever- 
lasting things  !"  How  it  ended,  we  know.  The 


HAPPY  ACCORD. 


337 


Grand  Duke  telegraphed  to  the  Czar  the  same 
night  that  the  great  and  holy  mission  which  he 
had  assumed,  of  liberating  the  Christians  from  the 
Mussulman  yoke,  had  been  accomplished.  There- 
upon preparations  were  made  to  re-establish  the 
old  diplomatic  relations  at  the  Muscovite  and  Ot- 
toman capitals.  Thereupon  the  Grand  Duke  and 
his  suite  danced  the  Cracovienne  on  the  marble 
pavements  of  Beylerbey  ;  not  as  a  conqueror,  but 
as  a  guest  of  the  Sultan ! 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PRINKIPO ITS    GREEK    AND    OTHER    WOMAN. 

IN  a  former  chapter  I  have  stated  that  Mur- 
ray's guide-book  gives  it  out  that  the  women  of 
Prinkipo  are  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world.  I 
am  ready  to  believe  that  Murray,  on  this  topic,  is 
nearly,  if  not  absolutely,  veracious.  I  will  not  say 
that  every  one  is  a  Miranda  or  a  Una,  or  even  a 
Helen  ;  for  there  are  many  females  on  this  isl- 
and who  are  neither  youthful  nor  attractive.  But, 
according  to  the  best  standards  of  taste,  there  are 
more  beautiful  women  here  than  I  have  ever  seen 
among  the  same  number  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world.  Perhaps  it  is  because  they  are  modelled 
upon  the  eclectic  principle  of  the  ancient  Greek 
artist  who,  to  make  one  perfect  form,  selected  from 
many  beauties  the  conspicuous  loveliness  of  each. 
The  Greek  blood-  upon  this  island  is  of  a  purer 
strain  than  can  be  found  upon  the  mainland  of 
Greece.  This  is  also  the  case  in  the  Cyclades 
and  other  Grecian  islands  nearer  the  ancient 
capital  of  art  and  genius.  The  classic  costumes 
are  not  quite  the  mode  of  Prinkipo,  but  they  still 
remain  the  fashion  in  the  inland  of  the  Greek  pen- 

338 


GREEK  WOMAN  FROM  THE  INTERIOR. 


CLASSIC  GREEK  MODELS.  339 

insula  and  many  of  the  islands  of  the  /Egean. 
Now  and  then,  here  in  Prinkipo,  you  may  see  young 
Greek  girls  dressed  in  European  style,  but  seldom 
without  retaining  the  jacket  of  embroidered  silk 
and  the  coiffure,  which  remind  you  of  the  an- 
cient costume.  The  chiselled  features  of  these 
young  graces  show  the  classic  model.  Greece  is 
now  best  represented  in  her  old  colonial  depend- 
encies. In  the  islands  the  living  models  of  Phid- 
ias, Praxiteles  and  Lysippus  are  by  no  means  rare. 
Whatever  changes  the  latest  fashions  of  Paris 
may  make,  they  do  not  affect  the  graceful  classic 
dressing  of  the  hair.  It  is  still  parted  in  waves, 
just  as  we  see  it  in  the  antiques  with  which  every 
archaeologist  is  familiar.  These  waving  bands 
flow  over  the  temple  on  each  side  and  are  encir- 
cled by  a  large  braid  forming  a  sort  of  crown.  I 
am  not  prepared  to  say  that  these  braids  are  al- 
ways genuine.  Their  different  shades  of  color 
suggest  a  suspicion  of  the  ancient  as  well  as  mod- 
ern art.  Nor  am  I  prepared  to  discriminate  very 
greatly  between  womankind,  in  grace  of  form  and 
movement.  Still  one  would  have  to  be  blind  not 
to  see  in  the  evening  balcony-groups  of  Prinkipo 
many  a  beauty  whose  very  pose  suggests  the  clas- 
sic type.  Even  the  touch  of  the  finger  to  the 
forehead  in  repose — "  like  one  who  with  a  pleased 
look  leans  upon  a  closed  book  " — gives  a  serenity, 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

proportionateness    and  beauty  altogether   unique 
and  Hellenic,  and  rarely  seen  elsewhere. 

Visitors  who  write  about  Turkey  more  fre- 
quently go  into  raptures  over  the  Turkish  woman 
than  over  her  Greek  sister.  Is  it  because  the 
beauty  of  Turkish  women  is  only  partly  revealed  ? 
The  best  writer  upon  the  Orient  whom  I  have 
read,  "  Eothen,"  is  an  exception  to  this  rule.  He 
seems  to  have  been  more  enamored  of  the  beauti- 
ful descendants  of  the  old  Ionian  race,  whom  he 
found  along  the  shores  of  Asia  Minor  and  in  its 
splendid  cities  of  Beyrout  and  Smyrna.  But  his 
picture  of  the  Smyrniote  lady  is  somewhat  dim,  as 
if  he  were  under  a  spell.  He  sees  Greek  beau- 
ties everywhere  in  these  cities,  even  in  the  humblest 
mud  cottages.  They  are  all  attired  with  magnifi- 
cence— "  their  classic  heads  are  crowned  with  scar- 
let, and  loaded  with  jewels,  or  coins  of  gold — the 
whole  wealth  of  the  wearers."  Thus  far  he  writes 
with  considerable  fidelity,  for  the  Greek  woman 
wears  her  dowry  or  fortune  upon  her  person.  It 
is  an  investment  made  for  safety,  as  well  as  adorn- 
ment. It  has  its  convenience  also,  for  the  suitor, 
instead  of  going  to  a  public  office  to  ascertain,  from 
the  will  of  her  father  or  the  record  of  public  taxes, 
the  value  of  her  estate,  can,  while  he  admires  the 
contour  of  his  mistress's  head,  reckon  it  therefrom. 
When  "  Eothen  "  gazes  long  and  longingly  at  the 
features  of  the  Greek  he  finds  some  artificiality. 


RHAPSODY  OF  TOURISTS. 


341 


"  Their  features,"  he  says,  "  are  touched  with  a 
savage  pencil,  which  hardens  the  outline  of  eyes 
and  eyebrows,  and  lends  an  unnatural  fire  to  the 
stern,  grave  looks  with  which  they  pierce  your 
brain."  Evidently  he  is  becoming  more  or  less 
inflamed,  for  he  says  further  on  :  "  Endure  their 
fiery  eyes  as  best  you  may  and  ride  on  slowly  and 
reverently,  for  facing  you  from  the  side  of  the 
transom  that  looks  longwise  through  the  street, 
you  see  the  one  glorious  shape  transcendent  in  its 
beauty  ;  you  see  the  massive  braid  of  hair  as  it 
catches  a  touch  of  light  on  its  jetty  surface — and 
the  broad,  calm,  angry  brow — the  large  black  eyes, 
deep-set,  and  self-relying  like  the  eyes  of  a  con- 
queror, with  their  rich  shadows  of  thought  lying 
darkly  around  them, — you  see  the  thin  fiery  nos- 
tril, and  the  bold  line  of  the  chin  and  throat,  dis- 
closing all  the  fierceness  and  all  the  pride,  pas- 
sion and  power  that  can  live  along  with  the  rare 
womanly  beauty  of  those  sweetly  turned  lips." 

This  rhapsody  comes  from  a  man  whose  travels 
through  the  Orient  were  of  a  most  sedate  and 
philosophic  quality,  and  who  is  quoted  after  fifty 
years  as  no  other  writer  upon  these  lands  has 
been  quoted.  Evidently  this  gifted  writer  went 
clean  daft  upon  his  inspiring  theme.  What  a 
climax  he  makes  in  his  description  of  the  Greek 
beauties  !  He  falls  into  an  ecstasy  when  he  says  : 
"  But  then  there  is  a  terrible  stillness  in  this  breath- 


342 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


ing  image  ;  it  seems  like  the  stillness  of  a  savage 
that  sits  intent,  and  brooding  day  by  day,  upon 
some  one  fearful  scheme  of  vengeance,  but  yet 
more  like,  it  seems,  to  the  stillness  of  an  immortal, 
whose  will  must  be  known,  and  obeyed  without 
sign  or  speech.  Bow  down  !  Bow  down,  and 
adore  the  young  Persephone,  transcendent  Queen 
of  Shades ! " 

What  should  "Eothen"  have  said  when  he  en- 
countered, as  he  often  did,  the  genuine  girl  of  the 
desert  ;  not  in  the  palace  or  harem,  but  in  the  tent, 
surrounded  by  the  associations  which  gave  to  the 
East  its  sweetest  lyrics.  Sometimes  such  an  Arab 
girl  is  known  to  sing  her  songs  from  native  in- 
spiration. One  of  these  songs  echoes  in  my  mem- 
ory as  it  is  sighed  rather  than  sung  beside  the  foun- 
tains of  Damascus.  It  is  a  melancholy  strain,  but  it 
has  the  essence  of  contrast  and  patriotism,  which  is 
the  spirit  of  poetry.  She  praises  her  russet  suit  of 
camel's-hair  as  dearer  to  her  than  the  trappings  of 
a  queen  ;  the  humble  tent  as  better  than  the  tow- 
ers and  halls  of  the  splendor  around  ;  the  frolicsome 
colt  as  more  beauteous  than  the  gorgeous  mule 
of  the  pasha  ;  the  barking  of  the  watch-dog  as  a 
sweeter  sound  than  the  melody  of  the  lute  ;  and, 
as  a  climax,  the  rustic  youth,  unspoiled  by  art, 
poor  but  free,  with  whom  she  will  roam  the  desert, 
though  all  the  pampered  sons  of  wealth  should 
seek  to  woo  her  from  his  love. 


BOUQUET  OF  ORIENTAL  BEAUTIES.  343 

Closely  assimilated  with  the  Grecian  woman  in 
beauty,  and  having  each  her  own  peculiar  loveli- 
ness, is  the  Armenian,  Persian,  Hebraic  and  Otto- 
man woman.  All  are,  in  one  word,  of  Oriental 
type.  Artists  have  portrayed  the  large  black 
eye,  its  languid  lustre  and  liquid  splendor  ;  the 
heavenly  arch  of  the  brow,  and  the  delicate  soft- 
ness and  smoothness  of  the  skin  which  tell  of  the 
bath  and  its  constant  use.  But  no  one  can  picture 
the  beauties  of  these  Oriental  women.  The  rose, 
the  pearl,  the  alabaster,  are  but  feeble  symbols  of 
their  loveliness.  Their  courtly  ease,  low  sweet 
voice,  innocent  jocund  laugh,  and  the  honeyed  talk, 
make  a  poem  of  enchantment  surpassing  the  sensu- 
ous imagination  of  Keats.  It  may  be  that  the  Ar- 
menian women  are  of  the  earth  and  earthy ;  but 
their  graces  betoken  the  nearness  of  their  country 
to  the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  the  absence  of  the  after- 
math which  sin  brought  from  thence  into  the  world. 
The  Turkish  woman  does  not  dress  as  gaudily 
as  the  Persian,  nor  does  she  bloom  so  much  in 
the  fictitious  glories  of  painted  womanhood.  She 
has  her  own  mode  of  pencilling  the  eyebrow 
and  arranging  the  veil  which  defies  competition. 
But  when  called  for  an  out-door  promenade  in  a 
long  and  graceless  feridjie  she  does  not  show  that 
elegance  which  one  might  possibly  see  if  he  were 
allowed  within  the  harem.  The  contrast  between 
the  indoor  dress,  both  in  Pefsia  and  here  farther 


344 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


west,  and  the  walking  attire,  must  strike  every 
traveller  who  has  had  the  privilege  to  draw  it 
from  life. 

The  more  characteristic  charms  of  the  Circas- 
sian, while  she  may  be  passing  fair,  consist  of  a 
tall  and  well  formed  figure,  dark  eye-lashes  and 
bright  chestnut  hair  ;  but  sometimes  that  element 
of  the  old  Tartaric  strain — a  high  cheek  bone  or 
wide  mouth,  is  too  prominent  a  feature.  Her 
charms  are  more  or  less  concealed  by  the  veil. 
Diamonds  and  other  jewellery  illumine  her  hair. 
Her  dress  is  brightened  and  colored  to  attract  the 
eye  and  rivet  the  gaze. 

The  Lady  of  Lima  is  one  of  the  beautiful  flow- 
ers of  the  great  Spanish  plant  on  our  own  hemi- 
sphere. She  is  said  to  be  all  eyes.  The  way  she 
wears  her  saya y  manto  gives  her  such  a  coquettish 
and  bewitching  air,  that,  if  all  her  other  features 
were  ugly,  she  would  be  rescued  by  the  glory  of 
her  eye  and  garment.  The  Lady  of  Lima  has 
been  known  unconsciously  to  entrance  her  own 
husband  in  passing  along  the  street !  Although 
only  one  eye  is  visible  at  such  times,  the  orb  of 
the  Spanish  ladies  is  of  such  a  large,  deep,  liquid 
black,  that  her  glance  through  her  cr$pe  mantle 
from  China  becomes  auxiliary  to  many  a  heart- 
breaking infelicity.  The  Peruvian  and  Andalu- 
sian  beauty  is  but  another  type  of  the  Oriental 


ARTIFICIAL  ADORNMENT.  ^4$ 

woman  under  American  and  European  acclimati- 
zation. 

It  would  seem  that  the  blonde  is  just  now 
most  affected  by  the  Turkish  women.  Fair  hair, 
and  blue  eyes  or  gray,  are  not,  however,  admired 
by  their  Persian  sisters,  although  in  Persia  a  fair 
skin  and  florid  complexion  are  much  sought  after. 
But,  strange  to  say,  that  even  though  nature  may 
have  been  unstinted  in  her  gifts  to  these  East- 
ern women,  art  is  not  seldom  called  in  with  her 
rouge  and  powder.  I  am  told  that  the  beauties  of 
the  harem,  in  Persia  at  least,  are  like  full  blown 
peonies.  I  have  seldom  seen  a  Turkish  woman 
who  rouged  her  face.  She  may  paint  her  eye- 
brows and  powder  her  neck,  but  rouge  does  not 
seem  to  be  one  of  her  adornments.  The  Persian 
generally  gives  her  suffrage  to  the  jet  black,  al- 
most blue-black,  long  hair.  After  the  Egyptian 
and  Oriental  method,  still  seen  upon  temple  and 
tomb,  it  is  worn  plaited  into  a  number  of  tiny  braids 
whose  ends  peep  forth  coquettishly  from  beneath 
the  veil.  But  neither  in  Persia  nor  in  Egypt,  nor 
in  Turkey,  is  the  contour  of  the  ankle  revealed  by 
the  walking  attire.  For  four  thousand  years  the 
women  of  the  East  have  been  under  formal  and 
constant  restraint  before  their  lords  and  masters. 
They  will  not  uncover  their  face  before  any  man 
except  their  father  or  husband.  Therefore  they 
put  on  an  outward  dress  that  makes  them  all 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

look  alike.  This  costume  was  borne  from  the 
East  to  Andalusia  and  thence  to  Spanish  Amer- 
ica. The  veil  of  the  East  is,  therefore,  not  only 
an  Asiatic  but  an  American  institution. 

In  Turkey,  thirty  odd  years  ago,  when  I  first 
visited  it,  the  trousers,  that  are  yet  common  in 
Persia,  were  the  rage.  Then  much  female  para- 
phernalia were  crowded  into  these  voluminous 
trousers — which  were  gathered  at  the  ankle — when 
a  Turkish  lady  desired  to  make  a  promenade 
abroad.  I  have  noticed  that  during  the  interven- 
ing time  the  Turkish  women  have  learned  to 
correct  the  ungainly  gait  which  came  from  wear- 
ing slippers  at  the  extremity  of  their  stockingless 
legs — a  custom  which  even  Byron  remarked  was 
"  one  of  the  disenchantments  of  their  beauty." 

I  have  tried  to  describe  the  women  of  the  East ; 
but  how  can  my  pen,  with  its  sameness  and  tame- 
ness  of  words,  picture  the  rare  form  and  alluring 
graces  of  these  maids  of  the  Isle  of  Prinkipo  ? 
If  they  are  not  good, — as  Miranda  remarked  of 
her  lover  in  another  enchanted  isle, — then  good 
spirits  will  try  to  dwell  in  such  forms  of  loveliness. 
As  some  one  sings  :  "  Nature  herself  disjoins  the 
beauteous  and  profane ;  and  beauty  is  virtue 
made  visible  in  outward  grace."  Ah  !  if  one  could 
always  incarnate  within  these  outward  forms  the 
Florence  Nightingales  of  our  earth,  where  could 
be  found  more  exquisite  caskets  of  the  soul  with- 


FLORENCE  NIGHTINGALE— HER  APPEARANCE.      347 

in  !  A  friend  who  saw  this  rare  woman  here  dur- 
ing the  Crimean  war  tells  me  that  she  was  held  in 
the  greatest  honor  among  both  men  and  women. 

"  How,"  I  asked,  "did  she  look?  how  was  she 
dressed  ? " 

The  answer  was : 

"  Her  short  brown  hair  was  combed  over  her 
forehead,  while  her  childlike  and  wasted  figure 
seemed  to  give  more  grace  to  her  goodness. 
When  I  saw  her  in  her  black  dress — which  was 
held  by  a  large  enamelled  brooch,  surrounded 
by  a  wreath  of  laurel  (an  offering  of  the  sol- 
diers), and  her  little  white  cap  with  a  white  crape 
handkerchief  thrown  over  it,  leaving  but  a  border 
of  lace  to  be  seen,  she  was  the  picture  of  a  nun, 
"  breathless  with  adoration  !  " 

This  was  the  woman  of  heaven's  own  type  of 
beauty,  the  angel  of  the  hospitals,  the  pearl  of 
the  camp.  I  asked  for  more  particulars  as  to  her 
personality.  My  friend  responded  : 

"  She  had  a  Roman  nose,  small  dark  eyes,  keen 
yet  kind.  She  was  orderly  and  ladylike  in  manner." 

All  of  this  is  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  luxuri- 
ous gifts  and  physical  graces  of  these  women  of 
this  isle  of  princes  and  princesses. 

But  because  Florence  Nightingale  was  too  good 
to  be  less  than  an  angel,  we  must  not  forget  that 
there  may  be  still  some  Circes,  Calypsos,  Helens, 
Sapphos  and  Aspasias.  But  happily  they  are  rare 


348 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


among  the  Christian  women  whose  devotion  is  the 
soul  of  the  Orthodox  Church.  Such  women  are 
the  rule.  If  there  be  others  they  are  the  excep- 
tion. 

Would  you  have  me  be  more  particular  as  to 
these  island  goddesses  ?  I  meet  them  in  the  prom- 
enade, dressed  as  queens  and  as  gracious  to  all 
as  Minerva  was  toward  Ulysses.  I  see  them  mov- 
ing amidst  the  pine  forests,  their  little  high- 
heeled  white  shoes  hardly  deigning  to  touch 
the  ground,  the  realization  of  Burke's  picture  of 
Queen  Antoinette  ;  for  never  lit  upon  this  star 
more  resplendent  visions  of  immortal  beauty ! 

It  is  impossible  to  particularize,  although  I  have 
one  in  my  mind's  eye,  as  I  write.  Is  she  Helen  of 
Troy,  or  Venus  reincarnated  ?  When  likening 
these  beauties  of  the  isle  to  Homer's  heroines, 
I  do  not  refer,  to  other  than  their  bodily  graces. 
Venus  is  a  goddess.  She  can  take  care  of 
herself.  Helen  is  not  an  odious  person.  With  all 
her  faults  I  love  her  still.  She  was  not  hateful 
even  to  old  Homer.  /As  I  recall  her  she  is  frail  but 
not  abandoned.  She  struggles  with  virtues  on  one 
side,  and  a  softness  which  overcomes  them  on  the 
other.  Sometimes  she  is  repentant,  but  always 
fair.  Fate  seems  to  rescue  her  fame  ;  and  fate  is 
never  wanting  when  the  "machina"  is  necessary 
for  the  whirl  of  the  Greek  epic.  There  are  places 
in  Homer  where,  as  in  his  speaking  horses  and 


HELEN  INCARNA  TE. 

his  blood-distilling  myrtles,  even  Pope  confesses 
that  the  machine  would  have  been  better  than  the 
monstrosity.  But  Helen  is  sufficiently  natural  for 
our  daily  contemplation,  and  far  more  alluring 
than  many  of  those  who  have  passed  as  fashion- 
able beauties. 

If  not  Helen,  then  her  typical  sister  is  here 
upon  these  isles  of  Greece. 

I  see  her  apparelled  in  pink  satin,  moving  in 
stateliness  through  the  sylvan  dells.  Sometimes 
she  can  be  seen  under  a  yellow  or  scarlet  umbrella, 
— "  serious  as  those  intent  on  love," — with  her  gay 
cavalier,  whose  summer  hat  is  adorned  with  a  varie- 
gated ribbon  of  a  broad  swath  !  The  scene  is 
Greek.  Grecian  graces  pervade  the  isle  despite 
the  mode.  They  fill  the  air  with  visual  enchant- 
ment and  honeyed  sounds.  True,  these  graces 
and  Helens  are  dressed  a  la  Parisienne  or,  re- 
cently, on  Viennese  patterns,  and  even  in  Pera 
fashion.  But  no  toilet  can  conceal  and  no  dress 
enhance  the  glory  of  their  beauty. 

In  several  passages  of  the  Iliad  we  have  de- 
scriptions of  the  Grecian  ideal  of  the  beautiful 
woman.  Powers,  when  he  makes  his  Greek  slave, 
and  Canova,  his  Venus,  copy  the  statues  of 
Phidias  or  the  effigy  of  that  Helen  who  was 
teterrima  causa  between  Greek  and  Trojan. 

In  Book  xiv.  of  the  Iliad  we  have  a  poetic 
picture  of  the  dress  of  the  Grecian  woman  2500 


350 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


years  ago.  It  was  very  simple.  After  the  inevi- 
table bath  and  the  fragrant  unguents — Oriental  cus- 
toms— she  ties  up  the  radiant  tresses  and  casts  a 
white  veil  over  her  hair — the  original  yashmak. 
Then  she  has  a  mantle  for  her  whole  body— 
the  feridjie.  Then  she  hangs  her  pendants 
and  puts  on  her  sandals.  This  was  the  dress 
which  the  magic  girdle  of  Venus  enclosed  when 
Juno  borrowed  it  to  please  the  god  of  Olympus, 
and  in  which  many  a  Circassian  beauty  is  arrayed 
to  please  her  pasha.  It  was  the  dress  of  goddess, 
princess  and  lady,  until  its  simplicity  was  corrupt- 
ed by  the  later  Asiatic  fashions,  which  Isaiah  de- 
scribes in  his  third  chapter. 

But  it  is  Helen's  beauty  that  I  take  to  be  the 
best  standard  of  ancient  Greece.  Homer  gives  us 
her  portrait.  He  pictures  her  at  the  loom.  All 
his  heroines  are  industrious  and  work  golden  webs. 
But  he  does  not  give  as  full  a  catalogue  of  her 
special  beauties  as  we  would  like.  Her  mien  is 
majestic  ;  her  graces  are  winning ;  she  moves — a 
goddess  ,  she  looks — a  queen  !  She  has  the  celes- 
tial descent.  Her  charms  make  men  fight  nine 
years  on  her  account.  But  what  is  the  color  of 
her  eyes  and  hair ;  how  tall  is  she  ?  These  questions 
remain  unanswered.  Although  the  Greeks  pre- 
ferred the  goddess  of  love  to  be  golden-haired,  and 
worshipped  Juno  as  blue-eyed,  yet  in  general, 
among  the  Greek  females  of  our  isle  the  blondes 


PIETY  AND  BEAUTY. 


351 


are  exceptional.  There  are  some  among  the 
Turkish  women  whose  mothers  are  doubtless  Cir- 
cassian blondes ;  but  then,  their  eyes  are  dark  as 
night,  and  wonderful  as  meteors..  Our  Prinkipo 
Helen  is  pure  Greek.  She  affords  opportunity 
for  the  display  of  her  charms  and  her  wavy,  grace- 
ful figure.  She  does  not  conceal  her  form  under 
the  ungainly  feridjie,  although  sometimes,  like 
our  Greek  lady  from  Bourdour,  in  the  picture,  she 
dresses  elaborately.  Besides,  she  is  devout  and 
that  helps  her,  as  it  does  the  Turkess.  There  is 
no  doubt  of  the  fact,  that  the  many  kinds  of  prayers 
and  their  frequency  in  the.  Greek  and  Moslem  cere- 
monies tend  to  make  the  person  willowy  in  grace 
and  facile  in  movement.  These  prayers  are  to  be 
executed  with  minute  and  easy  exactness  of  limb 
and  motion.  The  Turks  pray  at  least  five  times  a 
day.  The  Greeks  make  genuflections  whenever 
they  pass  a  church  or  the  image  of  a  saint.  I  can- 
not reckon  from  theological  data  how  much  move- 
ment there  is  required  in  the.  Greek  ceremony,  but 
the  Moslem  demands  twenty-six  postures  for  each 
prayer.  The  very  devout  use  many  courses  of 
eight  postures  each.  Nine  times  eight  is  an  excel- 
lent number, — which,  with  the  concluding  postures, 
make  seventy-four.  Then  there  are  special  prayers 
at  certain  seasons,  which  my  informant  enumerates 
as  follows :  "  for  Ramazan,  for  the  seven  holy 
nights  ;  for  drought,  famine,  pestilence  ;  the  funeral 
26 


352  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

prayer,  the  battle  prayer,  the  marriage  prayer,  and 
many  others,  each  of  which  must  be  executed  in 
its  own  way  with  the  utmost  particularity.  The 
slightest  deviation  or  mistake  destroys  the  merit  of 
the  whole,  and  the  performer — I  mean  devotee — 
must  begin  anew."  This  constant  genuflection 
from  early  childhood  makes  the  form  lithe  and  the 
vertebrae  curve  in  lines  of  loveliness.  No  one  ever 
tires  of  meeting  such  courtesy  as  both  Turkish 
and  Grecian  people  of  both  sexes  bestow.  Piety 
and  Beauty  meet  each  other ;  Goodness  and  Grace 
kiss  each  other  ! 

I  would  not  depreciate  the  women  of  other 
climes,  nor  extol  personal  charms  above  mental 
culture  and  virtuous  merit.  The  Greek  woman 
may  have  at  her  tongue's  end  a  dozen  languages. 
Her  time  at  school  has  been  so  absorbed  by  them 
that  she  has,  perhaps,  neglected  to  acquire  other 
information  and  discipline.  She,  however,  be- 
comes a  wonder  for  sweetness  of  voice.  Her 
articulation  runs  the  gamut  as  her  ancestress 
touched  the  lute.  Much  less  would  I  make  un- 
due encomium  upon  the  Turkish  women,  who  are 
greatly  secluded  from  the  world  of  letters,  learn- 
ing and  social  intercourse.  Still  it  is  true  that 
for  physical  grace  the  Greek  beauty  has  no  par- 
allel but  her  own.  The  blondes  of  Boston,  with 
glasses  before  their  acute  orbs ;  the  brunettes  of 
Baltimore,  with  their  easy  flow  of  talk ;  the  girls 


THE  GREEK  PARAGON. 

of  Norseland,  with  their  golden  tresses  and  ceru- 
lean eyes  ;  the  senoritas  of  Seville  whose  beauty 
made  Byron  beatific, — all  pale  before  the  maidens 
of  Prinkipo,  who  as  much  excel  his  Maid  of 
Athens  as  she  excelled  the  dowdy  and  gaudy 
girls  who  figure  in  the  novels  of  "  Ouida." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    TURKISH    WOMEN A    PRINCESS    OF    EGYPT 

INDEED AN  ESCAPADE. 

BUT  are  there  no  Turkish  ladies  on  your  isle  ? 
Yes,  my  fair  or  stern  reader,  there  have  been 
about  fifty  here  this  summer.  Six  reside  immedi- 
ately in  the  rear  of  our  villa.  Their  house  has 
the  sign  of  Turkish  seclusion  at  its  windows — the 
croisde.  They  walk  out  over  the  hills  with  the 
children  ;  no  man  accompanies  them.  It  is  their 
custom  never  to  promenade  with  their  husbands 
or  their  male  relatives.  Their  children  are  as 
pretty  as  pictures.  The  women  are  yashmaked 
in  white  tulle  over  head  and  face,  and  this  group 
has  white  feridjies.  They  look  like  a  bevy  of 
Dante's  ghosts,  moving  in  the  gloaming  of  the 
evening,  or  sitting  upon  the  hillside,  as  quiet 
and  mysterious  as  the  dumb  folk  of  Rip  Van 
Winkle's  vision.  This  group  is  not  so  attractive  ; 
but  there  is  another  group  who  live  by  themselves 
near  the  Calypso  hotel.  They  are  the  wife, 
daughter,  and  sister  of  a  Bey,  with  their  female 
companions.  They  are  veiled,  but  not  much. 
Sometimes  I  meet  them  unaccompanied  by  their 

354 


TURKISH    WOMAN. 


TURKISH  BEAUTIES  ON  DONKEYS 


355 


Nubian  eunuch,  and  when  the  veils  are  coquet- 
tishly  en  abandon.  They  take  donkey  rides 
around  the  isle,  morning  and  evening.  They 
sit  upon  the  animal  with  all  the  grace  consist- 
ent with  their  clumsy  outer  garment,  the  ferid- 
jie.  Their  head-dresses  shame  the  new-born 
snow.  Their  feridjies  are  of  all  colors  :  one  is 
of  golden  yellow,  one  of  royal  purple,  one  of 
white  silk,  and  one  is  as  blue  as  the  Bosphorus. 
The  eldest  has  black  silk.  They  wear  the  neatest 
of  French  boots. 

The  other  evening  these  ladies  were  mounted 
and  in  a  blithesome  mood.  The  donkey-driver  is  a 
Greek  ;  he,  too,  was  frolicsome  ;  in  fact,  the  keen 
air  of  the  isle  gives  to  all  jocund  spirits.  The 
ladies  were  arbitrary  ;  and  on  their  request  the 
driver  pushed  the  animals  up  hill  and  down  dale, 
while  the  riders  screamed  and  laughed  like  chil- 
dren just  out  of  school.  One  of  the  fair  company 
rode  an  obstinate  donkey.  She  was  left  behind. 
My  Dalmatian  serviteur,  Pedro  Skoppeglia,  and 
myself  were  on  a  rush  behind  them  upon  our  don- 
keys. May  I  not  mention,  sub  rosa,  that  my  wife 
was  not  with  us  on  this  occasion  ?  The  lady  who 
drops  to  the  rear  calls  to  the  driver  in  vain.  He  is 
occupied  with  the  other  three  ladies.  But  we  do  the 
work  of  punching  up  her  donkey,  and  away  she  flies 
like  John  Gilpin.  We  gallantly  drop  to  the  rear  as 
we  approach  the  village.  They  draw  rein  until  we 


356 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


turn  down  a  street,  when  the  belated  one  drops 
her  veil  to  bid  me  " Bon-soir"  I,  too,  must  drop 
the  veil.  I  said  that  my  wife  was  not  there. 
Do  you  ask  me,  "  Was  she  beautiful  ?"  She  was  of 
Circassian  mould  and  passing  fair.  She  was  the  sis- 
ter of  the  Bey.  "  Were  the  others  beautiful  ?"  Yes, 
of  various  types.  The  lady  of  the  bon-soir  was  gold- 
en-haired. She  had  dark  melting  eyes,  eyebrows 
of  faultless  arch — and  arch  ways  corresponding. 
Her  color  was  that  of  a  sunset  rose,  creamy,  tinged 
with  pink.  The  old  song  I  heard  in  Damascus 
came  back  to  me  with  its  refrain  :  "  Beautiful  was 
the  pomegranate ;  but  the  wild  bird  sang  to  the 
rose."  She  needed  no  such  toilet  as  the  Oriental 
women  of  Isaiah's  description.  She  sat  upon  her 
animal  like  Helen — if  Helen  may  be  supposed  to 
have  ever  sat  upon  a  donkey,  except  metaphori- 
cally. One  must  have  recourse  to  Oriental  meta- 
phor and  exaggeration  to  color  her  photograph. 
Her  shape,  was  it  not  as  graceful  as  that  of  the 
cypress?  The  shafts  of  her  eyes  beneath  her 
lashes  were  unsparing.  Thus  the  poet  of  Persia 
would  sing  of  her  : 

"Oh!  Queen  Rose,  thy  slave  is  beggared;  his 
whole  heart  is  only  one  wound.  Smile  but  once 
again  and  his  head  will  touch  the  stars  !" 

I  believe  I  mentioned  that  my  wife  was  not 
there.  Besides,  there  is  a  certain  reserve  which 
one  in  my  relation  to  the  American  ensign  had 


A  NE W  EASTERN  Q UESTIQN. 

to  sustain  upon  the  island.  The  best  I  could 
do  was  to  request  my  wife  to  make  advances  to 
the  fair  Turquoises !  This  she  did  through  a 
mutual  friend,  a  Swiss  lady  of  their  acquaintance. 
Then  followed  an  invitation  to  a  sail  in  the  launch 
around  the  isles,  and  a  picnic  al  fresco  in  the 
beautiful  bay  of  Halki.  Surely  no  Congressman 
who  voted  for  that  launch  and  reads  this  chapter, 
will  regret  such  tender  advances  in  the  direction 
of  the  haremlik  by  a  prudent  minister  and  dis- 
creet husband.  Yet — yet,  the  wild  bird  will  sing 
to  the  rose. 

Seriously,  while  these  ladies  understand  French, 
as  do  their  relatives,  the  question  arises  : 

What  else  do  they  know  ?  They  do  not  attend 
to  the  cooking  in  their  homes.  That  is  all  done 
for  them,  and  generally  out  of  their  households. 
Their  slaves  do  all  their  home  work,  except  em- 
broidery, which  Helen  and  Penelope  and  the  rest 
of  the  Homeric  heroines  performed  as  a  ladylike 
employment.  There  arises  a  new  Eastern  ques- 
tion,— and  after  all  it  is  a  question  much  moot- 
ed among  medical  men, — whether  our  fair  sisters 
should  enter  largely  upon  and  join  in  the  mental 
toil  and  tournament  of  active  life.  Exceptional 
culture  on  this  isle  has  not,  as  has  been  contend- 
ed, removed  the  "  fittest  "  women, — those  physic- 
ally perfect  and  most  likely  to  add  to  the  produc- 
tion of  generations  of  high-class  brain-power, — 


358 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


from  out  of  the  ranks  of  motherhood.  The  sweet 
girl-graduates  of  Greek  descent  here  —  whether 
of  raven  or  golden  hair  —  are  in  no  danger  of 
losing  their  vital  forces  as,  women  by  excessive 
study  of  something  beyond  the  languages  and 
graces  ;  for  languages  and  graces  seem  to  be  drunk 
in  with  their  mothers  '  milk.  The  Oriental  woman, 
says  Flaubert,  is  hard  to  understand,  as  we  are 
not  permitted  to  know  her.  But  this  is  not  the 
case  with  the  Greek,  who  never  could  assimilate 
with  the  ultra-Oriental  customs.  After  all,  from  my 
observation  here,  I  accept  as  true  to  life  the  de- 
scription of  a  happy  home  life  and  wife  as  well  de- 
picted by  an  Oriental  king,  Solomon.  He  says  : 

"  Who  can  find  a  virtuous  woman  ? — for  her 
price  is  far  above  rubies.  The  heart  of  her 
husband  doth  safely  trust  in  her ;  she  will  do 
him  good  and  not  evil  all  the  days  of  her  life. 
She  riseth  also  while  it  is  yet  night,  and  giveth 
meat  to  .her  household,  and  a  portion  to  her 
maidens.  She  girdeth  her  loins  with  strength 
and  strengtheneth  her  arms.  She  perceiveth  that 
her  merchandise  is  good  ;  her  candle  goeth  not 
out  by  night.  She  layeth  her  hands  to  the  spin- 
dle, and  her  hands  hold  the  distaff.  She 
stretcheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  poor;  yea,  she 
reacheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  needy.  Her 
husband  is  known  in  the  gates,  when  he  sitteth 
among  the  elders  of  the  land.  Strength  and 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION. 


359 


honor  are  her  clothing ;  and  she  shall  rejoice  in 
time  to  come.  She  openeth  her  mouth  with 
wisdom  ;  and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness. 
She  looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household, 
and  eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness.  Her  chil- 
dren arise  up  and  call  her  blessed  ;  her  husband 
also,  and  he  praiseth  her.  Favor  is  deceitful,  and 
beauty  is  vain  ;  but  a  woman  that  feareth  the 
Lord,  she  shall  be  praised." 

Has  the  curriculum  in  our  female  colleges  been 
productive  of  such  ornaments  of  home  as  the  Wise 
King  describes  ? — is  the  question  yet  to  be  decided. 

The  British  Medical  Association,  through  its 
spokesman,  Dr.  Moore,  epitomized  one  side  of  the 
question,  when  it  said:  ''This  higher  education 
will  hinder  those  who  would  have  been  the  best 
mothers  from  being  mothers  at  all ;  or,  if  it  does 
not  hinder  them,  more  or  less,  it  will  spoil  them, 
and  no  training  will  enable  themselves  to  do  what 
their  sons  might  have  done.  Bacon's  mother,  intel- 
lectual as  she  was,  could  not  have  produced  the 
'  Novum  Organum  ; '  but  she,  perhaps  she  alone, 
could  and  did  produce  Bacon." 

The  other  side  of  the  question  might  well  be 
illustrated  here,  for  in  language  dissenting /r0  hdc 
from  the  Association,  it  may  be  truly  urged 
that  where  there  is  naturally  good  intellect 
and  a  good  physique,  and  where  these  are  sus- 
tained and  improved  by  judicious  feeding,  exer- 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

cise,  and  employment,  we  should  have  no  fear 
of  subjecting  girls  to  any  strain  which  the  ordin- 
ary forms  of  so-called  higher  education  would  in- 
volve. We  do  not  believe  that  either  they  or  their 
offspring  would  be  in  any  respect  the  worse  for  it. 
The  question  is  a  personal  one  ;  and  it  is  only  on 
personal  qualities  that  it  can  be  rightly  decided. 

It  cannot  be  rightly  decided  by  flippant  flings 
at  the  Ottoman  women,  nor  at  the  time-honored 
custom  of  "  shamefacedness  "  in  women  which  Paul 
commended.  The  Greeks  to  whom  the  Gentile 
apostle  addressed  his  admonitions  were  not  then, 
and  certainly  were  not  in  the  time  of  the  empire, 
so  pure  that  they  could  throw  stones  at  their  later 
Turkish  competitors  for  empire.  "  The  Greek 
emperor,"  said  Gibbon,  "demoralized,  with  his 
uncurtained  harem,  the  very  Turk." 

It  is  very  seldom  that  a  stranger,  even  if  he 
knows  the  Turkish  language,  and  presumes  to  in- 
terrogate, ever  has  occasion  to  receive  a  response 
from  a  Turkish  woman.  I  have  read  of  one  or 
two  instances,  but  perhaps  these  are  travellers' 
stories.  In  a  volume  written  some  forty  years 
ago,  its  author,  the  ubiquitous  Mr.  Smith,  says, 
that  while  he  was  in  some  distant  province,  mak- 
ing a  sketch  of  a  Saracenic  mosque,  he  was  kindly 
invited  within  by  the  Ulema.  While  engaged  in 
his  sketching,  several  Turkish  ladies  passed  by. 
Curiosity  getting  the  better  of  them,  they  turned 


TURKISH  GOSSIP. 


361 


their  wonderful  eyes,  first  on  the  artist,  and  then 
on  his  artistic  performance,  and  inquired  with  al- 
most American  power  of  question,  but  with  Orien- 
tal poetical  expression  : 

"  Whence  come  you,  O  my  soul  ?  Whither  are 
you  going  to  travel  ?  Oh,  Allah  !  who  taught  you 
to  place  upon  paper  what  you  see  before  you  ? " 

Was  it  possible  that  Turkish  ladies  should  have 
so  transformed  themselves  in  a  moment  by  the 
sight  of  an  ensanguined  Englishman  as  to  have 
rivalled  our  Yankee  power  of  interrogation  ?  I 
cannot  believe  it,  nor  that  "  the  approach  of  some 
great  white  turbans  cut  short  the  conversation,  and 
compelled  the  damsels  to  beat  a  retreat," 

It  is  a  frequent  question,  What  have  the  Turk- 
ish women  to  do  when  they,  meet  ?  As  far  as  I 
could  judge,  in  passing  a  group  of  them  at  the 
Sweet  Waters,  I  never  saw  them  lacking  in  the 
quality  of  loquacity.  They  have  great  powers  of 
conversation.  "  Loquunter  Maria,  Sibilla,  et  ab  hoc, 
et  ab  hac,  et  ab  ilia."  Instead  of  "  Maria"  insert 
Zeuleika  ;  instead  of  "Sibilla"  read  Fatitna  ;  and 
then  let  the  hoc,  hac,  et  ab  ilia  run  at  their  pleasure. 

It  is  always  a  source  of  astonishment  to  the  stran- 
ger in  the  streets  of  Constantinople  or  Pera  that  so 
many  ladies  of  the  harem  are  seen  driving  around  in 
their  broughams,  and  shopping  without  any  attend- 
ant, not  even  the  Nubian.  Their  yashmaks  have 
become  so  thin  that  the  police  have  had  their  at- 


362  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

tention  called  to  them,  yet  without  making  much 
reform  in  that  particular.  In  private  life  a  won- 
derful change  has  been  made  in  the  costumes  of 
the  Turkish  women.  %  My  wife  has  a  couple  of 
dolls  which  illustrate  the  latest  phase  of  Turkish 
progress  in  this  respect.  The  Turkish  dress  of 
thirty  years  ago  is  almost  obsolete.  The  Turkish 
ladies  like,  where  they  have  an  opportunity,  to  talk 
of  the  innovations  that  have  been  made  in  their 
costumes  and  customs. 

It  cannot  be  true  now,  as  it  was  four  decades 
ago,  that  the  women  of  the  harem,  after  the  first 
little  offices  of  the  Koran,  pass  the  remainder  of 
the  day  in  ennui.  Some  of  their  time  must  be 
spent  in  dressing  and  changing  their  ornamenta- 
tions. The  bath  is  always  handy,  and  in  winter 
season  they  no  doubt  nestle  much  under  the  cov- 
ering of  the  tandour.  But  not  now,  in  summer, 
do  they  bury  themselves  among  their  cushions, 
and  thus  in  perpetual  kef  pass  their  time  away 
in  the  land  of  sleep  and  dreams.  Habits  of 
industry  have  invaded  the  harem.  Thus  utter 
idleness  has  ceased  to  be  an  attribute  of  the  Turk- 
ish female. 

The  sentiment  which  fills  the  Prankish  be- 
holder when  he  views  the  Oriental  female  is  a  per- 
petual theme  of  laudation,  as  well  in  prose  as  in 
poetry.  The  swan-like  woman,  "  rubbed  with 
lucid  oils,"  or  the  Asiatic  eve,  like  the  first  rise  of 


BEAUTIES  UNVEILED. 


363 


moonlight,  —  "  large,    dark    and    swimming    in    a 
stream  which  seems  to  melt   in  its  own  beam,"- 
these  and  other  fervid  pictures  show  how  poetic 
sensibility  has  endeavored  to  wreak    its  observa- 
tion and  feelings  upon  expression  ! 

When  Theodore  Gautier  visited  Constantinople 
he  did  what  many  tourists  undertake  :  he  described 
some  of  the  unveiled  beauties  of  the  harem,  and 
made  some  delineation  and  coloring  of  its  inmates. 
After  some  conscientious  misgivings,  he  indites 
this  paragraph : 

"  '  But  how  do  you  know  this?'  the  reader  is 
about  to  say,  no  doubt,  scenting  some  gallant  ad- 
venture that  I  have  failed  to  recount.  But  my 
knowledge,"  said  he,  "  has  been  attained  in  a  man- 
ner the  least  Don  Juanish  in  the  world.  In  wan- 
dering in  the  cemeteries,  it  has  frequently  hap- 
pened to  me  to  surprise  involuntarily,  some  lady 
adjusting  her  yashmak,  or  having  left  it  open 
on  account  of  the  heat,  trusting  for  security  to  the 
solitude  of  the  place.  That  is  the  whole  story." 

Such  an  experience  is  not  unusual  to  those  who 
sojourn  in  the  East.  It  has  often  been  my  fortune, 
or  misfortune,  to  come  unexpectedly  upon  some  of 
these  beauties  of  the  harem  when  aloof  from  their 
eunuch  or  other  guardian.  Those  on  our  isles 
are  fond  of  labyrinthine  rock  rambles.  I  often 
came  upon  them  in  covies  of  a  half-dozen  in  the 
sweet  nooks  and  shades  of  the  woods.  It  always 


364 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


struck  me  as  strange  that  they  should  have  so 
much  care  for  their  faces  when  they  did  not  seem 
to  be  otherwise  fastidious. 

My  experience,  however,  in  the  harem  has  been 
limited.  The  adventure  which  I  will  now  narrate 
is  a  little  beyond  the  limitation.  When  visiting 
Constantinople  some  six  years  ago,  and  while  stop- 
ping with  our  consul  at  Therapia,  certain  Turkish 
ladies  made  a  call  at  the  consulate.  One  of  them 
was  an  Egyptian  princess.  She  was  a  cousin  of 
the  Khedive,  and  a  grand-daughter  of  Mehemet 
Ali,  the  great  Albanian  soldier  of  Egypt.  I  hap- 
pened to  take  a  cup  of  tea  with  her,  and  this,  to  be 
mutual,  required  that  she  should  drop  her  veil  just 
a  little.  She  was  widowed,  and  lived  at  that  time 
with  her  mother  in  one  of  the  palaces  on  the  Bos- 
phorus.  I  need  not  say  that  she  was  beautiful  and 
accomplished — Ayesha,  the  favored  wife  of  the 
prophet  was  not  more  so.  "Her  eyes  were  bril- 
liant, and  yet  human,  like  the  reflection  of  stars  in 
a  well." 

When  we  were  visiting  Egypt,  in  February, 
1886,  I  received  a  note  from  the  princess  to  call  at 
her  palace.  She  desired  to  prefer  a  request  of  the 
Sultan,  whom  she  knew  to  be  my  friend.  The  re- 
quest had  reference  to  some  diamonds.  They  had 
been  mortgaged  by  her  husband,  and  she  desired 
to  recover  them.  This  request  had  a  touch  of  ro- 
mance about  it.  I  ventured,  in  company  with  the 


VISIT  TO  A  HAREM.  ^fa 

vice-consul,  to  make  the  call.  Her  palace  is  quite 
after  the  manner  of  the  haremlik,  which  I  had 
frequently  seen  when  the  birds  were  flown. 
When  I  enter  it  I  find  the  inevitable  colored 
eunuch.  He  dismisses  the  consul  and  solemnly 
directs  my  steps  up  the  winding  staircase,  at 
the  same  time  using  the  most  singular  sound, 
—not  pronounceable,  or  translatable  into  type,— 
by  which  to  warn  all  the  females  of  the  house- 
hold of  the  approach  of  a  man  and  a  Giaour. 
I  surmount  the  stairs  with  much  timidity.  The 
number  of  heads  which  pop  out  of  the  doors 
of  the  various  landings,  and  which  are  with- 
drawn with  sudden  surprise,  astonishes  me. 
At  last  I  reach  the  apartment  of  the  princess. 
There  I  find  her  seated  upon  an  ottoman.  After 
making  the  salutations  and  rnany  inquiries,  and  a 
statement  of  the  business,  we  smoke  our  cigar- 
ettes together,  and  drink  our  tea.  We  talk  of 
palms  and  palmistry,  of  Egypt  and  England,  of 
Arnold's  "  Light  of  Asia,"  and  American  petroleum, 
of  the  beauties  of  the  Bosphorus  and  the  navi- 
gation of  the  Nile.  After  this  interview  I  am 
escorted  by  the  same  colored  gentleman,  amid 
the  same  indescribable  noises,  down  the  winding 
stairway  to  the  door.  On  the  way  down,  one  of 
his  sable  highness's  ejaculations  scares  one  of 
the  resident  young  ladies.  Not  being  aware 
of  my  proximity,  she  is  ascending  the  stairs. 


366 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


At  the  terrible  sound  she  rushes  for  the  banis- 
ters. She  attempts  a  speedy  covering  of  her  head. 
She  is  embarrassed.  So  am  I.  I,  too,  rush  for  the 
banisters, — for  support, — and  thus  we  meet.  There 
is  no  screen,  and  no  scene ;  but  there  is  a  hasty 
parting,  all  too  hasty ;  while  the  eunuch  gives  out 
another  tremendous  sound,  as  if  all  the  Indians  of 
the  "  Wild  West  "  were  incarnate  and  vociferous  in 
his  person.  I  reach  the  sweet  and  balmy  atmos- 
phere of  Cairo,  with  considerable  perspiration. 
This  is  my  wildest  adventure  in  a  harem. 

It  so  happened,  during  the  past  summer,  that 
this  fair  princess  desired  to  pay  some  Moslem 
rites  upon  the  grave  of  her  mother,  who  died 
the  summer  before  upon  the  Bosphorus.  She 
came  to  Constantinople.  Her  physicians  or- 
dered her  to  Prinkipo.  There  she  took  a  house 
near  ours.  As  in  duty  bound,  I  make  my 
devoirs.  My  wife  invites  her  to  ride,  in  our 
launch,  amid  the  isles  of  our  beautiful  little  ar- 
chipelago. Without  much  reflection,  I  procure 
a  carriage,  drive  to  the  villa  of  the  princess, 
and  tap  the  knocker.  Her  man-servant  comes 
to  the  door,  and  soon  she  appears,  radiant  in 
all  the  beauty  of  her  white  tulle  yashmak, 
and  as  stately  as  became  one  of  the  line  of  Me- 
hemet  Ali.  I  assist  her  into  the  carriage.  She 
sits  by  the  side  of  my  wife  and  they  make  the 
vivacious  French  incandescent  with  their  talk.  We 


THE  PRINCESS  AND    THE  MINISTER. 


367 


drive  to  the  scala,  where  the  flag  and  the  l-aunch 
await  us.  Unfortunately,  at  this  time,  one  of  the 
ferries  from  Constantinople  comes  in  and  lands 
about  a  thousand  passengers.  They  see  the  Gia- 
our, with  a  stove-pipe  hat.  He  is  gallanting  a 
Mahometan  lady.  The  rumor  reaches  the  Kaima- 
kam,  or  governor  of  the  island.  We  return  to  the 
scala  after  our  sail  among  the  islands.  We  drive 
her  to  her  home  in  the  carriage  which  is  waiting. 
What  is  the  result  ?  Before  I  take  the  boat  that 
day  for  Constantinople,  my  driver,  horses  and  car- 
riage are  arrested  by  order  of  the  Kaimakam ! 

This  is,  indeed,  an  adventure  not  provided  for 
by  any  instructions  from  the  State  Department. 
At  once  I  send  a  remonstrance  to  the  Kaimakam, 
against  the  arrest  of  one  in  the  employ  of  the 
American  minister.  It  is  couched  in  unabridged 
terms,  such  as  are  embraced  in  the  word  inter- 
territoriality. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  proceeding 
reached  the  prefect  in  the  city, — and  I  fear  the 
Sultan  and  the  palace  also.  There  had  been  an 
apparent  infraction  of  the  Turkish  law  which 
forbids  a  Mahometan  woman,  unless  of  princely 
rank,  to  be  seen  upon  the  street  with  any  man, 
and  more  especially  a  Christian.  The  plug-hat 
made  a  prima  facie  case.  However,  the  matter 
was  decorously  settled,  as  it  should  have  been  ;  for 
the  Kaimakam  had  exceeded  his  authority.  It 
was  a  matter  outside  of  his  jurisdiction.  His  con- 


368  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

duct  was  arbitrary.  He  had  no  warrant  or  process 
for  the  seizure  of  the  horses,  the  driver,  or  carriage. 
If  there  had  not  been  an  Oriental  princess  in  the 
case, — who  exhibited  some  sensibility  in  relation 
to  her  royal  independency,  which  perhaps  she 
had  overstepped, — the  matter  might  have  figured 
in  our  diplomatic  correspondence.  As  it  was,  the 
affair  was  properly  settled  without  a  pursuit  of 
the  governor.  My  impression  is  that  he  did  not 
know  the  quality  of  the  lady,  nor  the  capacity  of 
the  minister.  I  had  occasion  to  remedy  at  the 
palace  any  seeming  mischief  which  might  have  been 
done.  The  princess  left  us  the  next  day,  which 
was  the  beginning  of  Bairam,  in  order  to  sacrifice 
a  sheep  upon  the  grave  of  her  mother.  She  was 
a  devout  Moslem,  as  well  as  a  most  charming  and 
intelligent  woman. 

I  am  sorry  to  undignify  the  Kalmakam  of  the 
Princes  Islands,  who  produced  so  much  trouble  in 
this  romance  of  the  princess.  Since  I  left  the 
island  he  has  become  an  ex-Kai'makam.  This 
means  an  unknown  quantity  not  only  in  algebra, 
but  in  politics.  He  was  removed  from  office.  He 
had  been  unmindful  of  the  relation  of  meum  et 
tuum.  He  overdrew  his  salary,  by  more  than  a 
thousand  dollars,  an  act  without  legality  on  his 
part,  or  satisfaction  on  the  other  part. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

FAREWELL    TO    PRINKIPO    AND    ITS    PLEASURES. 

EARLY  in  the  fall  (1886),  we  commence  prepar- 
ations to  leave  our  home  at  Prinkipo.  These 
preparations  look  beyond  Constantinople.  Be- 
fore they  began  the  President  had  kindly  ex- 
tended his  permission  that  I  should  return  to 
America.  In  fact,  I  had  intimated  to  him  that 
it  would  be  agreeable  to  me  to  resign  my  office, 
as  nearly  everything  possible  to  be  done  to 
place  it  in  running  order  had  been  accomplished. 
Through  the  favor  of  the  Sultan,  and  the  partial- 
ity of  Said  Pasha,  his  accomplished  minister  of 
foreign  affairs,  and  with  the  intelligent  assistance 
and  counsel  of  Mr.  Garguilo,  the  dragoman  of 
the  legation,  I  had  so  far  pursued  my  instructions 
from  the  Department  of  State  as  to  complete  two 
treaties  which  had  been  suspended  during  nearly 
a  dozen  years.  The  first  involved  extradition, 
and  the  next  the  question  of  expatriation  and 
naturalization. 

The  American  reader  will  be  pleased  to  know 
that    the    business  of    the   legation  at  Constanti- 
nople by  no  means  gives   the   leisurely  and  slip- 
24  369 


3/o 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


pered  ease  which  might  be  inferred  from  a  perusal 
of  these  pages.  There  is  no  time  in  which  some- 
thing may  not  be  done  to  forward  the  interests  of 
the  American  people,  and  especially  of  the  teach- 
ers, preachers  and  printers  who  are,  through 
American  benevolence  and  means,  permeating 
and  smoothing  down  the  ancient  ways  of  the 
Orient.  But,  whether  encouraging  this  work,  or 
keeping  up  with  the  current  events  of  American 
newspapers,  or  watching  the  operation  of  the 
Turkish  life-saving  service ;  or  whether  riding 
around  the  suburbs  of  Constantinople  and  trying 
experiments  in  ploughing,  as  an  amateur  farmer, 
whereby  I  have  sometimes  relieved  the  tedium  of 
absence ;  or  whether  making  an  excursion  to 
Egypt,  and  its  temples,  tombs  and  other  historic 
lineaments ;  or  whether  upon  the  Acropolis  observ- 
ing the  new  developments  of  archaic  statuary  as 
photographed  by  the  modern  artist ;  or  whether 
bounding  by  day  and  night  upon  the  y£gean,  un- 
der the  terrific  impulses  of  an  equinoctial  tempest, 

—I  have  found  enough  leisure  in  my  active  life  in 
the  Orient  for  some  of  that  sedate  and  quiet  re- 
pose which  so  many  believe  is  the  only  occupation 
of  an  American  minister  at  the  Sublime  Porte. 

Having  thus  successfully  accomplished  my  mis- 
sion here,  all  this  delightful  wintering  and  sum- 
mering amid  these  resorts  of  historic  grandeur, 

and  at  this  theatre  of   diplomatic  contention,  are 


ADIEU  TO  PKINKIPO.  371 

easily  relinquished  for  the  gratification  of  home 
tastes  and  predilections.  After  much  considera- 
tion, and  many  lingering  farewells  in  my  heart  be- 
fore they  were  spoken  in  the  word,  my  mind  is 
made  up.  It  is  now  the  animo  revertendi.  Not 
the  least  difficult  to  sever  among  the  attachments 
which  I  have  formed  in  the  Orient  is  that  for  this 
paradise  of  Prinkipo.  But  the  soughing  of  the 
wind  presages  the  autumn  ;  and  the  dropping  of 
the  leaf  upon  the  mosaic  pavement  of  our  garden, 
and  the  brown  tinge  of  the  foliage,  make  our  with- 
drawal from  the  pleasures  and  precincts  of  this 
Eden  of  the  East  less  regretful  than  it  would  be 
in  the  vernal  season. 

Not  unfrequently  there  were  some  lively 
breezes  upon  the  Marmora.  The  south  wind 
always  brought  its  waves,  and  though  the  little 
launch  was  capable  of  mastering  them,  it  was  not 
so  comfortable,  especially  for  the  ladies,  to  be  on 
board  during  these  emergencies.  More  than  once, 
when  we  started  from  the  bridge  in  Constantino- 
ple, the  seeming  calm  of  the  sea  was  disturbed 
and  the  waves  dashed  over  the  sides  of  the  vessel. 
On  such  occasions,  we  had  to  run  behind  the 
island  of  Halki  for  shelter.  As  the  launch  was 
often  decorated  with  flowers,  and  especially  the 
hydrangea,  it  presented  quite  a  gay  appearance 
with  the  red  cushions  for  the  seats  and  the  rugs 
for  the  floor.  But  when  the  waves  were  rough, 


3^2  THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 

these  flowers  looked  as  if  they  had  been  on  a 
spree,  and  returned  to  the  garden  considerably 
demoralized. 

We  selected  a  calm  time  and  a  good  photog- 
rapher for  our  farewell  view  of  the  scenery  of 
the  islands.  Nature  never  gave  to  mortal  man  a 
more  beautiful  day,  a  more  serene  sea,  a  more 
azure  sky,  or  more  balmy  air  for  a  last  visit  to 
loved  and  familiar  scenes  and  associations.  As  I 
look  about  me,  preparatory  to  this  journey  on  the 
launch,  I  feel  that  nature  gives  to  the  weary  eye 
under  such  a  sky  and  amidst  such  scenes,  a  balm 
that  does  not  come  even  from  sleep  in  a  less 
favored  climate.  Here  is  the  very  home  of  the 
Kef, — of  dreamful  repose  in  a  sunny  sheen  bathed 
with  the  mildest  airs.  The  landscape  changes  its 
mood  with  every  vista  of  observation.  The  sea 
copies  the  land  in  its  coquettish  phases.  Soft  are 
the  midday  sighings  amidst  the  bosquet  of  the 
pines.  On  the  placid  shores  the  waves  forget 
even  to  make  their  drowsy  melody.  No  fountains 
play  on  the  terraces  ;  no  purling  streams  gurgle  on 
their  way  to  the  sea  ;  no  torrents  bound  from  the 
mountain  steeps  ;  no  sound  is  heard  except  the 
faint  chants  in  the  churches  and  the  monasteries,  as 
they  float  by  in  waves  of  softest  melody.  Here  is 
blissful  rest !  Looking  through  the  avenues  of 
the  trees,  down  upon  the  waters  of  the  Propontis, 
I  see  the  distant  sails  becalmed,  with  here  and 


PHOTOGRAPHING  THE  ISLES. 


373 


there  streaks  of  smoke  from  the  funnels  of  the 
great  steamers  bound  for  the  Dardanelles,  or  the 
little  boats,  looking  ever  so  small,  carrying  the 
mail  to  Modena  or  Ismid.  Is  there  any  motion 
on  the  surface  of  the  sea  ?  No.  Look  again  ! 
Is  it  the  shimmer  of  the  sun  on  the  blue  surface  ? 
No !  it  is  a  breeze  so  mild  that  the  nautilus 
of  the  Southern  seas  might  safely  spread  its 
tiny  sail. 

Fanned  by  this  gentle  breeze,  we  begin  our 
farewell  photographic  trip.  Our  first  course  is  to 
the  front  of  the  town  of  Prinkipo,  with  its  craggy 
heights  and  superb  buildings  and  its  inlets  and 
shadows.  These  our  photograph  speedily  cap- 
tures. Then  turning  around  a  rocky  point, -upon 
which  sits  as  a  miracle  of  beauty  a  little  domes- 
tic temple,  we  anchor  our  vessel  and  bid  "  all 
hail !"  to  the  fishermen  hauling  in  their  nets  from 
the  rickety  platform.  They  are  acquiescent  and 
submissive,  these  fisherman,  and  give  themselves 
to  the  lens  of  the  photographer  without  effort 
to  escape.  After  a  feeble  attempt  to  take  them 
all,  while  they  are  manning  the  ropes  and  bringing 
their  burden  of  fish  to  the  pebbly  shore,  a  wild, 
strange  being  presents  himself  upon  the  long  plat- 
form of  the  pier!  His  advent  is  greeted  with  a 
roar  of  laughter  from  the  fishermen.  He  is  saluted 
by  his  name,  which  is  none  other  than  Demetrius. 
He  is  not  of  the  ecclesiastical  kind.  But  he  is  of 


374 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


the  orthodox  race,  and  thoroughly  Grecian.  He 
carries  a  basket  in  which  he  has  been  gathering 
some  provender  among  the  islanders.  He  has  a 
rough  cap  upon  his  shaggy,  curly  black  hair ;  and  a 
coat  and  pair  of  shoes  which  no  beggar  on  the 
bridge  at  Stamboul  would  envy.  Pedro,  our  Dal- 
matian servant,  and  George,  the  sailor  of  the 
launch,  surround  him.  They  press  him  along  to 
the  conspicuous  front  of  the  picture.  He  is 
taken,  in  much  better  company  than  he  is  ac- 
customed to,  As  soon  as  his  picture  is  finish- 
ed and  his  recompense  paid,  some  of  the  villagers 
who  have  gathered  upon  the  shore  pick  him  up 
bodily  and  pitch  him  into  the  sea. 

Of'  course  this  was  a  very  rude  proceeding. 
On  my  remonstrance,  the  villagers  expressed  re- 
gret. They  said  that  they  had  often  done  the 
same  thing  to  him  before;  that  he  could  swim 
like  a  duck,  and  that,  like  a  cork,  he  was  light  in 
the  head  and  therefore  not  properly  the  sub- 
ject of  homicide  by  drowning.  He  does  not 
drown.  He  soon  swims  out  and  clambers  up  the 
pier.  He  makes  no  protest.  He  likes  his  duck- 
ing ;  for  does  it  not  bring  him  reward  ?  I  am 
free  to  sav  that  never  have  I  seen  in  the  Orient 

* 

a  man  who,  before  his  involuntary  douche,  needed 
washing  more  than  did  Demetrius. 

The  English  engineer  who  leased  our  launch  to 
the  government  for  the  use  of  our  legation,  lives 


FAREWELL  OBSERVATIONS. 


375 


on  the  western  shore  of  Prinkipo,  upon  a  perpendic- 
ular cliff  overlooking  a  deep  and  delightful  shady 
cove.  Upon  the  rocks  which  form  the  cove  a 
summer  house  is  placed  with  exquisite  grace.  It 
is  the  house  of  my  friend  Jones,  the  lessor  of  the 
launch.  He  is  not  at  home  to  give  us  our  fare- 
well, but  his  family  come  upon  the  cliff,  and  along 
with  the  villagers  they  look  wonderingly  at  our 
photographic  operations.  It  is  a  pretty  point  of 
observation  for  a  picture.  The  dim  islands  of 
Oxia  and  Plati  are  in  the  hazy  distance.  Halki, 
with  her  red  rocks,  is  but  a  mile  away.  Above 
its  minarets  and  Turkish  naval  school  and  its 
long  yellow  buildings  we  discern  with  a  glass  the 
lazy  inhabitants  curiously  observing  our  perform- 
ance, while  a  winged  catgue,  and  three  Greek 
priests  in  a  boat,  pass  by.  They  shake  their 
heads  solemnly  at  the  damp,  unpleasant  body  of 
Demetrius,  who  stands  a  most  pitiable  and  limp 
object  upon  the  pier.  Along  the  road  upon  the 
shore  we  perceive  carriages  and  donkey  parties. 
They  seem  to  be  floating  along  in  a  mirage  of 
sunlight.  We  hear  the  tinkle  of  the  bells  on  the 
water  donkeys. 

We  do  not  linger  long  at  this  our  favorite  spot. 
We  put  off  from  the  shore.  We  stop  the  launch 
in  the  open  sea  near  Prinkipo  so  as  to  make  its 
picture  and  that  of  the  island  of  Halki  whither 
we  soon  shall  sail.  We  are  intent  on  seeing  once 


376 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


more  the  beautiful  bay  upon  the  eastern  side  of 
Halki. 

The  landlord  of  the  restaurant,  or  Diaskalon, 
sends  his  boat  to  us  as  soon  as  we  anchor  in  the  bay. 
He  greets  us  upon  his  shore,  loads  my  wife  fairly 
down  with  flowers  from  his  abundant  garden ; 
and  after  many  compliments  to  America,  and  a 
bottle*  of  wine,  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  smoke,  we 
are  about  to  return  when  the  insatiable  pho- 
tographer assails  the  landlord  and  his  company. 
He  takes  the  whole  group,  amidst  surrounding 
foliage,  in  which  every  prospect  pleases,  and  the 
very  sun,  as  well  as  our  host,  seems  to  smile. 

Our  intention  had  been  once  more  to  visit  Oxia 
and  Plati,  so  as  to  take  a  view  of  the  palaces  of 
Bulwer  and  some  of  the  beautiful  scenes  upon  those 
rocky  islets.  But  by  this  time  the  breeze  fresh- 
ens and  we  are  content  to  fire  at  long  range  at 
these  singularly  romantic  spots.  On  returning 
to  our  home  we  stop  before  the  monastery  and 
church  of  St  George  upon  the  rocky  promontory 
of  Halki.  The  long  avenues  of  cypresses  which 
lead  up  to  it  are  reduced  pictorially  in  a  twink- 
ling, by  the  refinement  of  art.  The  prettiest 
part  of  this  church  is  on  the  outside;  although 
it  has  recently  been  renovated  and  glorified  by 
new  pictures  and  adornments  from  Russian 
co-religionists.  Most  of  these  churches,  for  rea- 
sons already  hinted,  are  not  attractive.  These 


GREEK  AND  RUSSIAN  CHURCHES. 


377 


old  and  stained  churches  within  the  Turkish 
dominion,  which  are  so  rigidly  orthodox,  are  in 
great  contrast  with  the  temples  and  basilicas  of 
which  Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg  furnish  the 
best  examples.  The  new  Temple  of  the  Saviour 
at  the  former,  and  St.  Isaac's  at  the  latter  place, 
have  no  equal  for  the  splendor  of  their  pictured 
adornments,  the  gracefulness  of  their  architecture, 
their  innumerable  lighted  tapers,  their  gorgeous 
vestments,  their  rare  and  original  music,  and  for 
that  wonderful  mystery  of  the  gilded  iconostos. 
or  altar  screens,  heavy  with  masses  of  metal  and 
jewels  and  the  pictures  of  saints.  The  choirs  in 
the  cathedrals  of  Russia  are  conducted  with  ex- 
traordinary precision  and  harmony.  In  this  har- 
mony there  is  no  organ  or  other  instrumental 
music. 

We  return  to  Prinkipo.  In  the  afternoon 
we  make  a  detour  of  the  island.  This  is  done 
with  the  purpose  of  photographing  one  souvenir 
from  the  spot  where  the  Imperial  palace  of  the 
Empress  Irene  once  glorified  the  earth.  It  is 
now  only  a  hole  in  the  mountain.  But  we  fill  it 
with  solid  objects  of  historic  interest.  What  the 
sunless  treasures  of  this  Imperial  palace  were 
will  never  be  known,  especially  as  the  treas- 
urer had  not  been  heard  to  audit  the  catalogues. 
But  we  find  memories  outside  of  this  vacancy. 
They  are  Homeric  and  Hellenic.  Stretched  on 


37« 


HE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


the  shelly  shore  are  some  idlers,  while  others 
"whirl  the  disk,"  if  they  do  not  dart  the  javelin. 
We  meet  our  Albanian  guide  and  his  dogs.  He 
is  embroidered  as  if  for  a  gala  time.  Indeed  I  no- 
tice that  carriages  are  on  the  road  to  a  grove  near 
St.  Michael's  church,  where  there  is  a  table  spread. 
It  is  covered  with  dainties,  fruits,  wines  and  meats 
for  a  hundred  people.  The  place  is  very  select  for 
such  an  entertainment.  It  is  a  church/?/V.  The 
breakers  on  the  east  shore  of  the  isle  begin,  with  the 
creamy,  dry  Sillery  of  their  crests,  to  anticipate  the 
feast ;  and  on  the  west  side  there  is  what  Byron 
called  the  "  Sunset  glow  of  Burgundy."  Children 
play  about  in  the  fragrant  bushes.  But  not  a  word 
awakes  those  historic  people  who  once  revelled 
here  and  whose  dust  is  not  even  folded  in  tombs. 

On  our  return  to  our  villa  in  the  evening,  we 
find  "  Far-Away  Moses."  He  is  purchasing  much 
bric-a-brac  and  material  for  us  to  export  to  our 
home.  Mark  Twain  has  made  him  immortal,  in 
his  "  Innocents  Abroad."  But  our  photograph 
gives  to  this  remarkable  Israelite  a  pictorial  cos- 
tume which  is  a  sample  of  the  best  appearance 
which  a  Hebrew  may  make  in  Turkey ! 

This  almost  closes  our  album.  Last,  though 
not  least,  come  our  own  household.  They  are 
all  present  for  the  picture  which  we  desire,  in- 
cluding even  our  old  "  Amty,"  the  cook.  Pedro 
Stands  prominently  upon  a  pedestal  like  the 


"  FAR   AWAY  MOSES. 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  PHOTOGRAPHED. 

Dalmatian  hero  of  many  an  incident  of  the  classic 
Olympus  or  of  his  Croatian  home.  Our  gardener 
is  not  on  hand,  except  by  deputy.  Xenophon  on 
this  occasion  is  represented  by  Epaminondas. 
My  wife's  little  Armenian  maid  stands  upon  the 
steps  beneath  "  old  Amty,"  who  has  the  emblem 
of  her  vocation,  a  ladle,  in  her  left  hand.  But  a 
better  picture  is  taken  of  the  family  group  out- 
side the  grilled  gate  of  the  villa.  Pedro  is  there 
mounted  upon  a  horse,  as  if  he  were  the  Don 
Quixote  of  our  expedition,  while  the  minister, 
like  Sancho  Panza,  upon  a  donkey,  modestly 
turns  his  back  to  the  instrument.  An  English 
helmet  temporarily  destroys  something  of  the 
nationality  of  the  minister.  But  our  photo- 
graphic mania  does  not  end  until  our  two  female 
servants  of  the  household  are  caught  as  it  were 
in  masquerade  ;  the  maid  Marie  being  dressed  as 
a  Turkish  lady,  and  Theano  in  the  present  Greek 
costume  of  her  class  in  the  island.  —  Here  "night's 
descending  shadow  "  hides  the  view,  and  we  close 
the  camera. 

A  few  weeks  more  and  the  summer  will  be 
ended.  Its  luxury  of  flowers  and  leaves  and  the 
bright  blue  of  the  skies  and  the  brighter  blue 
of  the  seas  around  our  islands  will  have  passed 
away.  The  green  of  the  woods  will  soon  turn 
to  russet  and  gold,  at  the  touch  of  the  frosty 
autumn.  All  the  endearments  of  this  wonderful 


380 


THE  PRINCES  ISLES. 


and  beauteous  land  will  soon  pass  into  the  realm 
of  memory.  Even  the  freshness  of  the  "  Sweet 
Waters  "  will  pass  away ;  the  dark  green  ceme- 
teries, the  monuments  and  columns,  the  hippo- 
drome, the  mosques  and  minarets,  the  fountains, 
and  the  chosen  haunts  with  which  we  are  fa- 
miliar,— these  will  pass  away  with  their  enchant- 
ments, associations  and  attachments,  but  never 
shall  the  blissful  days  of  these  isles  of  "eternal 
summer  "  pass  from  our  fond  recollection.  They 
will  remain  among  the  bright  oases  of  our  life. 

A  few  more  days  we  linger  at  our  lovely  home. 
We  make  our  adieux  to  neighbors  and  friends 
upon  the  island  and  do  the  necessary  packing  for 
our  long  journey.  Better  to  leave  it  now  in 
the  cool  beauty  of  its  refreshing  haunts,  than 
later,  when  November  brings  its  mist  and  chill,  to 
make  the  solitude,  which  is  so  pleasing,  lonesome 
to  a  sense  of  pain. 

What  will  the  groves  be,  when  winter  rules  and 
makes  this  clime  less  clement  ?  We  do  not  desire 
the  solitude  of  dearth  or  death  ;  but  rather  that  of 
the  hill  and  valley,  where  "  the  harvest  of  a  quiet 
eye  "  may  brood  and  sleep  in  our  own  heart.  We 
do  not  desire  to  see  the  mansions  here, — so  lately 
filled  with  music  and  jocund  with  domestic  joys,  and 
the  gardens  so  full  of  pleasance  and  fragrance,— 
deserted  of  both  flowers  and  houris.  We  do  not 
wish  to  wait  until,  the  clouds, — which  are  now 


MEMORIES  OF  AN  ETERNAL  SUMMER.  ^1 

white  as  wool  and  rolling  in  light  masses,  over 
the  hills  of  Asia, — become  black  with  storm  and 
thunder. 

The  ways  here  are  sufficiently  untrodden  now, 
but  what  will  they  be  when  even  the  donkey-boys 
cease  to  accelerate  the  tourist,  and  the  peddlers 
have  gone  South  with  the  birds,  to  the  isles  of 
the  Grecian  archipelago  ?  The  privacy  of  the 
pine  forests,  the  brown  of  the  vineyards,  the  si- 
lence of  the  warblers,  and,  above  all,  the  cessation 
of  the  crowds  of  people  who  come  here  for  recre- 
ation, will  make  Prinkipo  and  "the  Princes,"  en- 
chanting though  they  are,  too  secluded  for  a 
diplomat  or  a  tourist. 

The  story  of  our  summer  is  told.  The  wreaths 
begin  to  wither  on  the  tomb.  A  thousand 
thoughts  and  studies  hang  over  them.  But  these 
are  not  dead  garlands.  The  Angels  of  Memory 
will  resume  their  places  at  the  gate  of  this  para- 
dise. The  flaming  sword  drives  us  into  the  old 
and  busy  world,  under  the  glaring  sun  and  the 
uncloistered  heat  and  dust  of  our  earnest  and 
active  American  life;  but  amidst  all  the  turmoil 
and  worry  of  that  life,  we  shall  turn  to  the  "  Pleas- 
ures of  Prinkipo  "  ;— 

"  In  the  shadow  of  thy  pines,  by  the  shores  of  thy  sea, 
On  the  hills  of  thy  beauty,  our  heart  is  with  thee." 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


THE   TRAVELLERS'   SERIES. 

SKETCHES  OF  PEOPLE  AND  PLACES. 
i6mo,  paper,  per  volume,  50  cts. 

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SON BAY  TERRITORY.  By  H.  M.  ROBINSON.  With  numerous  illus- 
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"  Mr.  Robinson's  narratives  exhibit  a  freshness  and  glow  of  delineation  founded  on 
a  certain  novelty  of  adventure  which  commands  the  attention  of  the  reader  and  makes  his 
story  as  attractive  as  a  romance." — N.  I".  Tribune. 

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Art  Ideal,"  "  Italian  Sights,"  etc. 

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and  with  the  author's  original  illustrations  on  wood. 

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BRITTANY.     By  KATHERINE  S.  and  THOMAS  MACQUOID.     With 
thirty-four  illustrations. 

The  well-known  author  of  "  Patty  "  has  interwoven  with  some  fascinating  narratives 
of  travel  a  selection  of  Norman  and  Breton  stories  and  legends  which  are  very  quaint  and 
characteristic,  and  her  husband  and  fellow-traveller  has  contributed  a  series  of  charming 
pencil  sketches  of  the  scenery  and  the  people. 

13  THE  GREEKS  OF  TO-DAY.     By  Hon.  CHARLES   K.    TUCK- 
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edition. 

"  No  one  can  read  this  book  without  having  his  interest  greatly  increased  in  this 
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G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  Publishers, 

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FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

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